


A Little Bit Lost

by impish_nature



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Feral Ford AU, Gen, Paranoid Ford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:43:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feral Ford AU (Courtesy of pinesinthewoods)</p><p>Ford’s not entirely the same once he came back through the portal. He’s a bit more jumpy and he’s used to living without human contact for long periods of time. He just needs some time to readjust to living without having to watch his back so much. He’s a little bit lost in this new wide world.</p><p>Series of One-shots most probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Safety Nets

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I’m not sure I got this completely in keeping with the AU idea. But it was good fun to write! Tbh this wasn’t even meant to be anything, just a quick paragraph in the actual fic I was writing but it got bigger and bigger and more detailed and…yeah. Sometimes I shouldn’t be allowed near a keyboard.
> 
> I am still working on Phobos and Demonic Conman, I just wanted to get this on to paper ^.^

Ford hadn’t been the same since he’d come back through the portal.

Not that Stan was judging him in anyway.

After all, he could only imagine what he’d been through.

He gave a small sad sigh as he glanced around the corner yet again, waiting for any sign of a change in the other man to no avail. His brother was stood in the hallway, head tilted to one side as if listening intently, his posture slightly defensive. If Stan hadn’t know better he would have said he was a statue, another wax figure that Mabel had made for him, from his frozen countenance.

Stan licked his lips, readying himself for whatever happened next. This could go one of two ways; Ford would either bolt away or try and hit him again when his fight or flight impulse kicked into action. He rubbed at his jaw with a wince, remembering vividly which one was more probable. But at least his brother had apologised, his voice panicked as he checked over him, his hands flitting around in concern, unlike the intentional punch he’d given when he came through the portal.

It had actually been quite nice in a painful sort of way, to know that Ford did still care under all that buzzing paranoia.

“You know, the doors and windows are all locked. I check them every night.”

Ford jumped at Stan’s words, swinging round in an unthinking motion. Stan gave himself a mental pat on the back for staying out of reach before he spoke as Ford’s dominant hand veered towards him before he realised who it was that had spoken and backtracked quickly.

Stan smiled reassuringly, trying to convey with his entire body that he wasn’t a threat, nor was he upset that Ford had lashed out. “Only me. Sorry, didn’t know what else to do. Tapping you on the shoulder ended badly for me before.”

Ford coughed, standing up straight in a quick movement, his eyes jerkily checking the corners of the room and behind Stan before he focused back in on his brother. “You, uhh, check the doors and windows?”

“Course, don’t want anyone coming in and stealing anything.” Stan jokingly grinned, omitting the fact that he’d been on the run when Ford had called him all those years ago and his own paranoia at anyone finding him had led to certain habits when he found himself alone in Ford’s home. He leaned in conspiratorially, glancing around quickly first. “There are baseball bats hidden in every room too.”

His smile fell as Ford stepped back, his back ramrod straight as he glared disparagingly at his brother, his hands curling up into fists unconsciously. It clicked a few seconds too late that he thought he was mocking him.

Stan raised a hand, a genuine expression on his face leaving Ford suddenly unguarded, his face in turmoil as to whether or not to believe his words. “I mean it, Sixer, I take security very seriously even if you don’t think I do.”

An animal howling loudly outside stalled their conversation. Ford twitched at the sound, looking shamefaced as he did so, cursing his own body’s reflexive actions. Stan just smiled reassuringly in response, bending to try to catch his eye again. “Just a wolf.”

“Could be a werewolf.”

“Nice try but it’s not a full moon.” Stan pointed at him, his face smug at the little titbit of knowledge he knew. He didn’t care that it was an obvious piece of information as he cheekily raised an eyebrow at his twin. “Or is that not how it works?” His smile widened as his mind cheered at his victory. The tension was bleeding out of Ford’s body and Stan would ramble any old drivel all day and all night if it gave Ford some peace of mind.

It was ironic really how contradictory he could be. He couldn’t comprehend at all what had made his twin this way, his mind swirling with age old nightmares of the worlds his mind had envisioned when he accidentally pushed his brother through. But even if he couldn’t logically come up with the answers like he was sure Dipper or even his brother could do if the roles were reversed, his instincts could understand the sentiments behind every single one of his weird new actions.

You treated every meal like it was your last when you didn’t know when the next one would be. Scavenged and ate every last morsel to keep your strength up. Hoarded it away if you didn’t need it at that moment.

You hid when you knew there was an unknown risk nearby. When you didn’t know where the threat was coming from or needed time to think of a plan of action before confronting it.

You stayed on high alert at all times, defensive, when the world was against you. When every shadow could hide a foe and every sound could be a warning to take heed of.

Stan knew that way of life only too well.

It made Stan want to laugh and cry all at the same time when Ford sported the expression he wore now; completely calm, his eyes drooping as the adrenaline hit left him, but oh so puzzled, so perplexed by the conundrum of how exactly Stan always seemed to know the best way to calm his frayed nerves.

If only he knew.

But Stan ignored that trail of thought. Bringing that up would just rekindle bad blood between them. Ford may not understand why but Stan could feel the small semblance of a relationship building back up every time they spoke. It had been hard at first, living under the same roof for them to even be civil but he wasn’t about to stand back and watch his brother go through readjusting to this plane of existence without any help, he couldn’t do that. So he’d stepped in, even though he wasn’t wanted and he knew without hesitation that he was going to keep stepping in every time no matter how long it took for Ford to heal. And though he knew Ford was still angry at him and wold be for a very long time, he was slowly accepting his company.

He guessed in hindsight it was probably hard not to grudgingly accept his presence when he was helping to anchor him.

“You should get some sleep, Ford.” Stan frowned as Ford seemed to lock up again before shaking himself and nodding. “ _Ford_?” There was a parental tone to his voice as he gazed suspiciously at his twin, who squirmed restlessly under the gaze.

“Nothing, just not tired.” Ford shrugged, standing straight again and feigning an affronted expression at Stan’s mollycoddling.

Stan gave him a sceptical look. “Yeah and that’s exactly why your eyes are drooping where you stand.” He sighed as Ford opened his eyes wider in an attempt to prove him wrong. “Ford, what’s up? I can hear you at all hours of the night and you pass out during the day, what gives?”

“Are you telling me you weren’t doing the same when you were working on the portal?”

Stan’s mouth became a thin line as Ford looked victoriously at him. Now was not the time to get angry and he knew that Ford had let his frustration get the better of him. Still, he couldn’t let it slide completely. “That’s different, or are you doing more mysterious work that I should be worried about?”

“No one keeps watch at night.”

Stan tilted his head at the words that tumbled quickly out of his brother’s mouth. It took a second to comprehend the complete 180 to the conversation and then it clicked with a sharp hiss of breath.

“It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Stan blinked, looking back at Ford’s remorseful expression, his shoulders slumped with a bone tired weariness. Stan schooled his face back into a neutral expression, realising too late that his annoyance at himself had shown through physically. How could he have not grasped this last piece of the puzzle? Of course, when he’d been on the streets you caught sleep where you could, you kept one eye open unless you had someone you trusted with you to watch your back. And what with everyone else asleep Ford couldn’t rest until they were awake again. It was just what he had to do.

Without saying a word, Stan walked passed Ford, smiling slightly when the man followed without coaxing, obviously unsure of Stan’s reaction.

“Stan?”

Stan ignored him, sitting on the sofa and turning on the TV.

“ _Lee_?”

He couldn’t ignore that one, he tried not to smile considering Ford sounded highly irritated in him, possibly close to punching him again.

But it really was nice to be called that again.

“We’ll do shifts. I’ll do tonight, you do tomorrow.” A compromise. It was the best he could come up with at short notice. It would make work tomorrow hell but he’d done enough all-nighters before to work through that with a smile.

“But-”

“Ford you’re no good to anyone sleep-deprived. Get some rest.”

“How do I know you won’t just go to sleep when you think I’ve settled?”

Stan shrugged, his shoulders slumping when he found it wouldn’t be that easy. “You could just trust me?” Silence met his words and he gave a sigh, glad he hadn’t got his hopes up. “OK, well I could come and wake you up every few hours? But that would completely defeat the purpose of you getting sleep.” Stan rubbed at the back of his head, ruffling his hair before he took a chance and looked up at Ford, waiting to be shut down entirely. A small spark of hope erupted as he saw the consideration on Ford’s face. “Or you could sleep in here? I’d rather you slept in a bed though.”

The room was quiet for a moment.

“I don’t want to-. You need sleep too, Stan.”

“Oh for- _Sixer, go to bed._ ”

A few moments passed and as Stan relaxed back into the sofa to watch some late night TV, he was infinitely happier that both kids were blissfully unaware, tucked away in bed.

After all he’d just pointed down the hallway while telling Dipper’s idol, _the author_ , to go to bed like he was some small child up passed his bedtime. Only to watch his brother give him one more fleetingly calculating look before he skittered off quickly before he changed his mind. Obviously sleep was calling enough for him to take a knock to his pride and take Stan up on the offer.

Mabel would have had a field day.

 

* * *

 

Stan yawned as he stretched out all his creaking joints before leaning casually against his car in a moment of peace. Getting Ford back had rekindled a lot of old memories and for some reason he’d felt the need to look after the old thing. He gave it a soft pat, grinning at it in the bright sunlight. It was finally Saturday and he’d spent another night up for his brother who was looking healthier by the day. He was still jumpy and he’d picked some odd habits it seemed, but Stan was just grateful that he was taking more care of himself.

He still wasn’t entirely sure why the windows had to be lined with leaves but apparently they guarded against something or other. He hadn’t really paid attention passed the point that it became clear they made Ford feel safe. He’d also set up some interesting looking wind chimes and dream catchers that amusingly went down a storm with the tourists. If he couldn’t already envision the ensuing argument it would cause he would have asked Ford to decorate all the exhibits for him.

Stan’s face fell as he recalled the latest addition to the house. The one thing that he had vetoed without even meaning to.

Ford had started to scratch sygils around the house, the loud noise concerning Stan enough to take a look around. When Stan had caught him he hadn’t even stopped, just started explaining rapidly as he continued gouging a mark on the steps leading up to the attic, relieved when Stan had nodded along and gone to leave him to it without any further questions. They warded against Bill, that was all Stan needed to know.

And Stan had just accepted it, because technically it was Ford’s house so he couldn’t exactly complain about him decorating the walls now could he? And he was trying to protect the kids, if the sheer number of the small symbols littering their way down the stairs was anything to go by.

“Stan?”

He hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped walking, his eyes drawn to the journal Ford had open in front of him. He knew Ford must know the symbols off by heart but ever paranoid he was probably checking every line just in case.

Which was why Stan found himself stuck fast, his breath hitching as his eyes locked on to a very familiar emblem.

“Hmm?”

He’d responded on autopilot, not really paying attention. A phantom pain was running up his shoulder, he could almost feel every line burning into his flesh as he traced over it with his eyes.

“Lee!”

Stan snapped out of his musings as a heavy hand hit his shoulder, jolting him back to the present. He flew back out of the grasp, hand going to his shoulder like he’d been stung before he took in Ford’s terrified expression, hand still outstretched towards him. That expression pushed all other thoughts out of his mind as he put up his hands in an apology, grimacing at his actions. “Sorry, zoned out there. Didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Stan, if you don’t want these around-”

“No, no. Y-you keep us all safe.” Stan smiled, glancing down one more time at the book before taking off, ignoring his brother’s shouts behind him. His stomach did flips at the thought of seeing that symbol every day. He’d covered up the one in the basement almost immediately after the portal incident, a mixture of guilt and betrayal blooming hot under his skin every time his eyes hit it.

It was easier to hide the one on his shoulder once it no longer needed medical attention.

Stan shook his head, getting back to his car, trying to put his mind to something useful and consuming instead of dwell. He knew he should probably be sleeping but the sun was shining, the day was uneventfully peaceful and he couldn’t help but want to relish in it. But his mind still trailed away, slightly happy that his twin had taken his distress into account. For a while he didn’t even notice, he looked at the symbols out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to look at any of them too closely just in case he caught sight of _that one_ again. That was until a set of deep gouge marks at the bottom of the stairs caught his attention. He’d frowned, crouched down and recognised the pointed top of this particular symbol before the rest was torn apart by a deep zigzag, scored over with separate lighter crisscrossing lines to obliterate it completely. He started to take note of the others, the symbol not crocking up again in any of the nooks and crannies Ford had hidden them in.

He took a chance the next time everyone was a sleep. Slipped down into the basement to the dismantled portal. Not much had been cleared yet, the portal had crumpled up with the force of ignition but Ford had made it adamantly clear that that wasn’t enough, he had to make sure the portal was nothing more than scraps of metal so that it was never activated again. The last time Stan had been down here the control panel was beginning to be dismantled, the screens and usable parts all packed up neatly in one corner, the other parts left in a wobbling pile ready to be cleared out with the rest of it.

Now even though the portal rubble hadn’t been cleared, hadn’t been touched in a while, the pile that had been in the control room had been ransacked. Pieces of metal were discarded all over the floor as if Ford had been looking for something specific in a hurry and hadn’t cared what happened to the rest of it. Stan searched for a while, giving a small light scoff when his suspicions were confirmed, trying not to let his tumultuous emotions show in case anyone found him.

Ford had taken the time to get rid of the panel that burned him all those years ago, even though he himself still saw it as a protective sygil.

He didn’t bring it up, didn’t want to make Ford flustered and maybe regret the sweet action. But he did almost hug him the next time he saw him on instinct.

Almost.

He made a split second decision that Ford might run away screaming if he did, or suspect him of being possessed.

Or punch him.

Yeah that was the most likely option.

“Knucklehead, what are you doing out there?”

Stan snapped out of his musings, a small dopey smile on his face still as he looked up at the porch from his car. His smile widened as he saw Ford standing there, a deep set frown on his face. “Hello to you too, Poindexter.”

“Very funny, now get back inside.”

Stan blinked at him a few times, stepping back from his car and towards the house. “Why? It’s a nice day out here. You could use some sunlight, Nerd.”

“Stan, please. Inside. Now.” Ford’s foot started to tap, his eyes darting between Stan and the forest, his teeth gritted painfully tight.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Stan stretched out his back, groaning at the sharp crack it made. He slowly stepped towards him, arms settling on his hips as he got close to the porch, a meter or so away from Ford. “Am I going to get an explanation for all this?”

Ford growled, his eyes glued to Stan’s feet. Stan raised his eyebrows, refusing to budge until he got more clarification than his twin snarling at him.

He didn’t have long to wait.

Stan flinched, closing his eyes in alarm as his brother lunged towards him. He let himself get manhandled and only opened one eye when he assumed Ford was satisfied with his positioning.

His other eye opened with an almost audible pop when he took in Ford’s content expression for moving him all of what felt like one step forward. “Uhh…I still don’t seem to be inside?”

“Yes, you are.”

 _Oh god, it’s happened, he’s snapped._ Stan took a slow step away from his now grinning twin only to watch the expression morph into one of panic.

“ _No_ , no, don’t go back outside.”

“OK, Ford, OK.” Stan’s hands were back up defensively as he slowed his movements. When that didn’t help Ford’s increasingly agitated behaviour, another small growl escaping his lips, he instead dragged his foot back to where Ford had placed him. Ford’s muscles seemed to relax with the movement so Stan experimented, taking a step closer to the house and a grateful smile appeared on Ford’s face at his actions. “Can I please get an explanation that doesn’t involve growling when I go somewhere you don’t want me to?”

Ford had the presence to look chagrined at the comment. “Mabel helped me set up a barrier around the shack.”

“Mabel?”

Ford’s eyes lit up with pride, anxiety completely forgotten now that Stan was safe. “She did exceptionally well! She went and got some unicorn hair for me.”

Stan still wasn’t entirely sure that Ford was sane. He may have seen some things but unicorns? That was something else. “Right…Unicorns…so what does unicorn hair do exactly?”

“Well when you mix it with…” Stan stopped paying attention as Ford listed off all the magical ingredients, not all that fussed as to what else was in the concoction as long as he wasn’t told to drink or touch it. “It makes a barrier against demons.”

Stan followed his pointing finger and noted the thin line around the perimeter of the shack, it took a second more to realise he’d been standing on the edge of it when Ford had started getting restless at him. “Right, I get it. Inside the perimeter, not inside the shack.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, just thought for a second you’d lost it. Guess I was wrong, can’t get rid of you that easy, can I? Nerd.” Stan clapped his brother on the back, smiling at the encouraged expression on Ford’s face. It reminded him of age old memories. Of a much younger face that looked so relieved when he told him he wasn’t a freak.

“I can assure you, it was a very logical move.” Ford straightened his glassed, trying to look insulted through the smile that wouldn’t leave his face.

“But I am allowed to leave, right?”

Ford’s smile vanished in a blink of an eye. “What?”

“Like not right now but in general. I mean, I’ll need to grab us food at some point, we’re not that well stocked.” Stan gestured inside the house, eyebrow raised as Ford flushed.

“Y-yes of course, I didn’t mean. You can leave, anytime.”

“Except now?” Stan waited as Ford shuffled under his gaze. He let the movement sink in, saw it for what it was.

A nightmare in clear daylight didn’t hold the same sway it did when the panic first set it.

“Ford, I’m not going to be upset or judge. Just, I’d like to know, you know?”

Ford sighed, taking a deep breath. “The dream demon- Bill, I told you about him right?” He ruffled his hair, his eyes taking on a manic expression. “He came to me in a dream a few nights ago, and they’re not normal dreams, they’re real. They’re not just nightmares, it’s how he speaks to you.” His eyes were fiery, desperate for Stan to believe him. “He said he was going to hurt one of you if I didn’t do what he wanted so I-” He gestured at the barrier quickly, hands flying a bit too wildly. “Made this to make sure he couldn’t and I just don’t want anyone out there so soon after…”

“So soon after you were threatened.” Stan nodded, walking over to the sofa on the porch. He might not be allowed to leave but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to enjoy the sun while it lasted. He felt Ford sit next to him, sinking back into the seat with a grateful noise, as if glad he didn’t have to do anymore persuading.

“Besides, it was more for the nights that I made it.” Ford yawned, stretching his arms out wide. “No more nightly visits from him, plus neither of us have to stand watch because the barrier will keep everything away.” He made a satisfied noise, happy with his work.

Stan nodded along before taking in the significance of the words. “Wait, I thought we were doing alright on the night watch? And I thought those symbol’y things were something to do with that?”

“Yeah but they troubled you-”

“And? If they protect us you should have put them everywhere.” Stan shrugged. If they made Ford feel safe that was all that mattered.

“But they wouldn’t have made you feel safe.”

Stan blinked, wondering if he’d said anything out-loud. When he turned to Ford’s concerned frown he decided he hadn’t, it was just that Ford was thinking on the same wavelength as him. He smiled sheepishly at his brother, his hand reflexively going to his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m not too fond of that one.”

“…I’m not surprised.” They were silent for a moment, an awkward pressure building between them. Ford coughed, eager to change the subject and release the tension. “So I thought up this protective bubble. No demon can come through it so yo- _we_ can both rest a bit easier at night.”

Stan ignored the rehashing of the words, knew deep down that Ford had come up with this because he didn’t want to be a burden. He’d relied on himself for so long and gotten so used to looking out for himself that he still wasn’t quite sure how to deal with Stan’s accepting nature of it all. He let it slide, taking the words for what he knew they meant and just let himself be content with the idea that Ford might get full night’s sleeps more often than not now as well as three hearty meals.

“So humans can go through without any hassle but demons can’t?” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He didn’t think before he spoke, just wanted to make idle conversation on this sleepy afternoon. But he looked over when Ford didn’t answer him, his eyes now narrowed and focused on the line. Stan snapped back into action, thoughts brimming up in the hopes of fixing his newfound mistake, at grasping that Ford had taken his words the wrong way.

He’d accidentally pointed out a flaw in Ford’s safety net.

“Course demons are the main concern, right Sixer?” He gave a chuckle, nudging Ford’s shoulder in an attempt to bring him back to the world of the living, his eyes unfocused into the middle distance.

“You bring up a good point though.” There was a growling edge to Ford’s voice, an unconscious annoyance at missing something so easily visible.

“Me? I never make any good points, what are you talking about?” Stan belted out another laugh, ignoring the sharp edge it had to it or the way Ford flinched at the loud noise. “I mean I can take on anyone who gets in with a-” He made a few jabbing motions, throwing in a left hook for good measure. “Like that, see? I’m the security against humans and all other small woodland creatures that might on the off-chance get through.”

“Stan, you just mimed punching things. Not everything can be punched.”

“Pssh, sure it can, Sixer.”

“Your idea of security is locking the door and a baseball bat in every corner.”

“Hey, that’s security that’s worked for 30 years. I’m pretty sure it’s not going to fail me now.”


	2. Hiding Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This went huge so hopefully it makes up for me taking so long! 
> 
> POV switches around in this one but I hope it all makes sense. This is made in response to a conversation I had with pinesinthewoods so ta again for this AU and our chats :3

Ford took quick shuddering gasps, biting down on his knuckle in an effort to stop any sounds and alerting the creature to his location. He pushed himself further back into the dark small hiding place he’d found for himself, his back hitting the wall as he curled in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“It’s OK, you’re fine, it won’t find you.” He hissed to himself, trying to get his heart to stop thudding so hard in his chest. He snapped his mouth shut as the creature came closer, inwardly cursing that he’d been found. He froze, holding his breath and listening intently as he waited for the inevitable, hand gripped tightly around his gun in preparation.  It was just so _loud_ , the noise echoing around his head so much that it was hard to pinpoint its exact location. If he could locate it he might have chanced charging it but he’d heard that particular noise before, the sound familiar and terrifying in its intensity. The loud and rumbling growl from a mouth full of venomous teeth, the snuffling sucking sound of its tongue as it dragged it along the floor in hopes of small animals that couldn’t get out of its way in time. He’d met them more than once on his travels, the first time only escaping with his life because a travelling companion had known the creatures and told him, in no uncertain terms, to run.

His eyes screwed shut at the scream that used to reverberate through his nightmares after that day. The ones that would wake him up and put him on high alert in case they came for him while he slept, every loud noise making him freeze in that forest just in case because he’d learnt, he’d _had_ to learn how they hunted, how they ate, how they _killed_ , all to keep one step ahead of them.

But he’d never encountered them _here_.

They shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t even be in this dimension! He cast his mind back to his time studying Gravity Falls. Had he missed the signs? He hadn’t known the creatures back then, so it would have been easy to miss something but he always wrote everything down just to be safe and nothing pointed to these creatures inhabiting the nearby woods, none of their distinctive tracks, no sucked dry carcasses or husks, no large warren holes that collapsed underfoot and left you vulnerably in their domain.

He took a deep breath as the creature seemed to move away from him again, the sound disappearing back into the hallway of the house. His heart gave a pang of worry, thoughts of the kids upstairs flickering across his minds eye. He shook his head, breathing a sigh of relief. They’d both gone out with Stan hours ago to shop and he hadn’t heard them return before he’d heard the dreadful sound that sent him scuttling for cover, not prepared to attack the creature head on. He knew he had to do something soon, before anyone got back but he needed to make sure its back was turned, he’d only managed to kill one of these monstrosities once.

He had the scars to prove it.

Ford stayed frozen, listening to it move further on and grit his teeth, trying to push passed the fear and make a move. But his mind whispered treacherously, reminding him that these creatures moved on quickly if they didn’t find food, needing sustenance almost every hour to survive. He might not even have to engage it, could just wait for it to move on before locking the house up tight, finding out where and how it got in before setting up the deterrents he’d learnt to spiral around his camps. He wasn’t sure he had all the ingredients to hand in this dimension but he could make something up based on what substances he had used before. He just needed to get the items. He was sure he could get some in the forest, the others at a local store in town.

He could work up the courage to go into town and not seem twitchy if it meant protecting everyone from an impending threat.

He just hoped Stan wouldn’t ask why there was a trench dug around the mystery shack full of mistletoe berries and cherry foliage.

He frowned at the thought as he suddenly realised he might need a new strategy what with the kids creating an unknown variable. He didn’t think Mabel would forgive him if Waddles ate anything he’d put down and got ill.   

His thoughts trailed, still half paying attention to the outside world to keep himself safe.

“Perhaps a concoction of oak leaves, they’re fairly similar chemically to the leaves of the Lullabee tree in that dimension…shouldn’t harm the kids either.”

“Grunkle Ford? Grunkle Ford!”

Ford’s mutterings ceased as he heard a recognisable shout, feeling the blood drain from his face at the sound.

Dipper was in the shack.

He was out there with that _thing_!

Ford’s eyes hardened, his expression full of grim determination as he made his move.

 

* * *

 

Dipper wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, his heartrate skyrocketing in alarm as he struggled against his captor.

One moment he was searching the living room for Ford after having checked the basement to no avail and the next he was jumping a foot in the air with a loud squawk as something grabbed his ankle in a firm grip and dragged him under the sofa in one fluid movement.

He opened his mouth to scream, hoping that one of his family members would hear him over all the noise they were making when a hand clamped over his mouth pre-emptively, another hand gripping him tightly around the middle and dragging him further into the dark recess. He went to bite down on the hand when his assailant finally spoke.

“Dipper, Dipper listen to me. Stay completely still, we have to be as quiet as possible.”

Dipper ceased his struggling, his blood still pounding with adrenaline but less panicked now that he knew who it was even as a new fear slipped down his spine at the urgent edge to the words. What on earth had happened while they were out? What hadn’t they noticed? He grasped at the hand around his middle to show he understood and gave a relieved sigh when the man dropped the hand from his mouth in return. He pushed himself closer, turning around in the hopes of making out his expression but he couldn’t see anything in the gloom. He tried to be as quiet as possible as he whispered to Ford, not wanting to startle him further. “Grunkle Ford, what’s going on? What are we hiding from?”

“ _Shh_.”

Dipper eyed Ford nervously as he tilted his head to one side, listening attentively. He wasn’t sure what Ford was hoping to hear over the racket Stan was making but he left him to it, waiting patiently.

“Sorry, Dipper but I need you to stay under here where it’s safe and stay quiet, do you understand?” Ford’s gaze was piercing as he seemed satisfied that they weren’t in immediate danger. “You trust me, right?” He waited for Dipper to nod before continuing. “Can you hear that loud noise coming from the hallway? I don’t know how you got passed the thing, but it’s _deadly_ and I can’t risk you getting hurt by it. I didn’t even know they existed in this dimension, I can’t believe I missed it.”

“I didn’t see any creature, Grunkle Ford.” Dipper frowned, not comprehending at all what Ford was hearing over Stan’s ruckus. “I don’t hear anything either…”

Ford froze, glancing back at Dipper like he’d lost his mind, his words came out in a torrent of information. “Y-you can’t hear that? It’s a Violet Rotwraith, Dipper, also known as the Purple death because of the marks it leaves on its victim’s remains. They’re extremely powerful creatures that have a particularly unpleasant venom in their fangs that paralyses the body and starts to liquefy the internal organs ready for digestion. Luckily-” Ford’s breath hitched as he pushed Dipper to the other side of the sofa, rearranging himself so that he was in front of him, his weapon drawn again. His words came out fast and quiet, Dipper had to strain to hear him over everything else. “Luckily they’re very loud creatures so you always have a warning when one is approaching. Surely you can hear its growl? It’s just entered the room. _Stay there_.”

Dipper’s eyes widened as suddenly everything clicked into place. He went to sit up, giving a small yelp as he cracked his head instead and was rewarded with Ford shoving him back further, a growl reverberating through his chest in warning.

“Grunkle Ford, I think you’re a bit confused. That’s just Grunkle Stan-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence.

 

* * *

 

Ford didn’t hear the end of Dipper’s sentence, his blood running cold at the parts he had paid attention to. Of course, if Dipper was home then Stan and Mabel would be too! His brother and he might not see eye to eye on everything but he wouldn’t wish a Rotwraith on anyone.

Well, maybe Bill, but now wasn’t the time to think about that.

He scrunched his eyes shut, a tremor running through him. The memory of a companions scream morphed into his brother’s, a sound of pain and anguish that fuelled the protective instincts still there, just buried deep.

All these emotions and thoughts went through his head in one quick snap, body making the decision before his mind had caught up to its reflexes, as he braced himself to leave the enclosed safety of the hiding spot he’d found for himself.

He peeked out from under the sofa, his heart lodging in his throat when he saw Stan on the floor, fighting vigorously against something just out of his field of vision, the leg of the sofa blocking it from this angle.

A deep dark growl ripped from his throat as he scrambled out, all thoughts of safety forgotten as he launched out, aiming for his brother’s prone body to yank him away from the danger.

He let his eyes rake over him quickly, took deep long breaths to check for the smell of blood from unseen wounds. A soft guttural sound of relief rumbled through his chest when he took in that Stan was unharmed. He narrowed his eyes, turning to their assailant when he was satisfied. Weapon ready to strike.

He tilted his head as his eyes fell on their would be ‘attacker’.

 

* * *

 

Stan blinked, brows furrowed as he found himself staring up at the ceiling, the wind knocked out of him and very slightly dazed.

He stayed in that position however, not entirely sure how to cope with the situation.

Staying put seemed like the wisest decision.

He was sure two seconds ago he’d been wrestling with the vacuum for one of Mabel’s balls of yarn that had become tangled in its brushes when something large and unyielding had barrelled into him. It had come out from under the sofa and straight into his side, dragging him backwards where he fell to the floor in an ungainly heap, arms wind milling widely in the dwindling hopes of counter-balancing himself.

Suffice to say he’d failed miserably.

It had taken a few seconds of panic to realise it was Ford as he blotted out the light above him, his eyes frantic as they scrutinised him. He stayed still as two hands ran up and down his sides and his brother sniffed at the air. “Ford?”

He was dropped again without a word, a huff of air escaping him in surprise as his brother left his field of vision.

He lifted his head slowly, assuming he’d be jumped again at the motion and found Ford crouching guard over him, every fibre in his body tense and ready to spring. He raised an eyebrow, concern flooding in at the twitchy nature, the deep threatening growl, wanting to reassure him, to calm him down but still not comprehending the circumstances enough to try or even if he should. Ford might actually had the right idea. In this town anything could happen even on the best of days. He really didn’t want another repeat of the zombie incident if he could help it.

His eyes followed Ford’s gaze, falling on the vacuum still screaming away in front of them.

He winced as the puzzle clicked into place. Maybe he should have warned his brother before he’d made such a loud noise. Didn’t even think he might get spooked that easily. In hindsight it was obvious but it was hard to get the hang of warning someone about things that were a normal everyday occurrence.

“Ford, that’s-that’s the vacuum. I promise it’s not going to hurt us.” He kept his voice low. Just high enough for him to hear but quiet enough not to startle him more.

“I can see that.”

Stan frowned at the gritted response, sitting up slowly and calmly. He put a reassuring hand on Ford’s shoulder, flinching when he jumped at the contact, his neck cracking as he turned his head to check on Stan, eyes wide and blown. “Easy there, just breathe. What’s going through that head of yours, Poindexter? I can’t help if I don’t know.”

Ford was looking every which way, eyes hawkishly staring even as confusion took over his expression. “I don’t understand. Maybe Rotwraiths are smaller in this dimension but they’re still just as loud…fascinating.” He blinked, turning to Stan as he realised he’d asked a question. He pointed at the vacuum, his face serious again and commanding. “Stan, I think you’ve somehow got a Rotwraith living in your vacuum, you really shouldn’t go near it until I’ve done some tests. I don’t know how dangerous this subspecies will turn out to be.”

“A what now?” Stan stared up at him, still utterly lost even as he forced his mind back to the journals. He was pretty sure a ‘Rotwraith’ or whatever had never been mentioned.

Before Ford could answer, Dipper scampered out from under the sofa, much to Ford’s distress, and weaved through Ford’s grip when he tried to push him back into safety.

“Grunkle Ford, stop, I’m trying to help!”

“Easy, kid, let’s all calm down here.” Stan grabbed him, tugging him out of the way before Ford panicked further and was rewarded when Ford stepped back in front of both of them to keep himself between them and the threat. He still looked angry at Dipper disobeying him but at least he was accepting Stan’s compromise. Stan tugged him closer, whispering softly. “What’s going on, kid? I’m not sure what to do.”

Dipper ignored him. “Grunkle Ford, that’s just the sound of the vacuum. It always makes that sound.”

“Then why is it so _loud_?-No! Dipper, stop!”

Stan let Dipper drop from his grip as Ford processed his words, managing to squeeze passed him towards the vacuum. Before Ford could mount an offensive attack, he flicked the switch, the noise dying out into silence. None of them moved for a few tense moments.

“S-see, Ford? Everything’s OK, nothing to worry about.” Stan patted him on the back, hoping he wasn’t sounding condescending. “At least we know if there is ever a…Rotwraith? That you’ll know exactly how to handle it.” He cringed sympathetically at the red flush creeping up Ford’s neck and the backs of his ears.

“W-why was it so loud?”

Stan couldn’t help the pang at how sad and lost his brother sounded. He tried to keep cheerful in comparison. “That’s just the sound the vacuum makes, it’s old and battered like us, it likes to complain at me for what I’ve put it through over the years.”

His efforts weren’t helping if his brother putting his head in his hands was anything to go by.

“ _God_. I’m so-” Ford coughed, sitting back up and looking at Dipper guiltily. “I’m sorry, Dipper. In most of the dimensions I’ve been to, vacuums are silent, I’d forgotten the sound they made…”

“That’s OK, I think I get it, Grunkle Ford…”

“Hey Dipper, how about you leave us two to it for a sec.” Stan took over when Dipper looked helplessly in his direction, twitching his head towards the stairs. He waited until the boy was out of earshot before speaking, hoping his demeanour showed there was no harm done. “Hey, if you could make our vacuum silent, I think you’d make Mabel’s day. She hates the sound of it almost as much as you do.” He grinned, standing up with a groan.  He cursed when Ford looked up at him, having hoped to have a chance to surreptitiously crack his back into place from his sudden drop to the floor.

 

* * *

 

Shame flooded Ford like an ice cold bucket of water. He was meant to be smart! How could he not recognise the difference between a monster and a vacuum? He could feel heat flooding to his face at embarrassing himself in front of Dipper. The boy wasn’t going to keep looking up to him if he thought he was an absolute lunatic.

He wouldn’t really blame him for thinking that either. He could see the entire scene from a different perspective as his head dropped into his hands. He’d propelled himself out from under a piece of furniture at his newly reunited brother and tried to defend him against _a god damn home appliance_.

And he still couldn’t really get the tension to leave his muscles, his body ignoring the logical answer that his brain had been supplied with.

It just wasn’t that easy to shut off.

“Hey Dipper, how about you leave us to it for a sec.”

 _Yeah go off and tell your sister about your nutty Grunkle_. The thought swirled bitterly through Ford’s head even as he physically recoiled from Stan’s words, knowing that a private conversation between them was not going to be a pleasant one. He waited for the other shoe to drop when Dipper scurried away. It was obviously coming. Stan had put up with a lot since he’d come back, he’d been far more accepting of his quirks than Ford had ever expected. He’d started to almost feel comfortable around him again, the bond slowly stitching back together as they spoke and understood one another slowly. Making something new, a fresh start, the pair of them so vastly different from the people they had once been 40 years ago.

But there was no way he was going to put up with being bodily manhandled in his own home no matter how well the action was intended. He’d have to put his foot down and in the circumstances Ford wasn’t sure he could pluck up the courage to start up the age old argument that this was actually his house, not Stan’s.

“Hey, if you could make our vacuum silent, I think you’d make Mabel’s day. She hates the sound of it almost as much as you do.”

Ford paused in his mental criticism, Stan’s remark sinking in slowly. He could hear the light hearted humour that his brother was trying to force out but he wasn’t sure if that was hiding anger or reassurance behind it. A groan alerted him to another option, one that now flitted across his mind in a moment of panic. How hard had he hit into his brother when he’d taken him down? Was it pain that he was trying to hide behind his usual joking nature?

He glanced up, ready to gauge Stan’s expression and decide based on that how to go about rectifying the situation.

Ford winced sympathetically as he found Stan straightened out his back, his face a grin turned grimace. Their eyes caught as Stan took what he had probably hoped was a quick peek only to get caught out. His mouth twisted into a sheepish smile, obviously trying not to make a fuss. “Are you-”

“M’fine, Sixer, the kids have done worse whilst they’ve been here.” Stan waved him off flippantly.

“But-”

“Hey, instead of talking about me-”

Ford leant back as Stan crouched back down in front of him, his nerves still on edge and not impressed by his personal space being invaded. He stayed quiet, still waiting for Stan to gently rebuke him.

“How about we get that tension out of your shoulders.” Stan’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinised him. “Still wide eyed and twitchy if you ask me, so, why’s that?”

Ford grit his teeth, a deep angry shame blooming just underneath his skin, still not dislodging the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “It’s not that simple.” The words hissed defensively through his teeth, his back up at Stan’s flippant nature. He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath as his mind mentally berated him for lashing out.

Stan didn’t deserve that, he was only trying to help.

He just _didn’t understand_.

“Sixer, I’m not an idiot.”

Ford nodded at the abrupt tone, he probably deserved that.

“I get it, I’m not going to sit here and tell you ‘to calm down’. We both know these things don’t work like that. I’m asking you _how_. How can I help you know that you’re in no immediate danger?”

Ford’s hands shook at Stan’s calm and steady voice, feeling a hand on his shoulder, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. “I’m not sure. I’m not used to there not being a threat. There’s always a threat, it’s never a false alarm.” He frowned, his mind trailing back to other creatures, ones that were harder to identify, ones that sounded similar to docile species. “Or almost never…”

“And what did you do when it turned out to be a false alarm?”

Stan’s voice was coaxing, egging him to go deeper into those memories. His heart started to beat a little slower at each memories small moment of relief when he’d discover there was nothing to fear.

It wasn’t enough though.

“OK, different angle. How did you go about deciding whether it was a threat or not?”

Ford’s eyes opened quickly, the question puzzling him even as Stan continued to smile reassuringly in front of him. Like this was a normal everyday conversation and not his brother having a heart attack over the volume of an appliance. “I’d study the situation to be on the safe side.”

Stan nodded, moving away from Ford, the motion sending a pang of remorse through him, like he’d actually felt safer with his brother close by. He couldn’t stop the small growl that escaped him as Stan approached the vacuum again, nodding in approval as he instead stretched out and hooked his hand around the handle, standing well clear of the suction end. He leant back again as Stan tugged it close before drawing back, leaving Ford enough room to leave the room entirely or go towards the vacuum. “OK, so study the situation. Take it apart if you have to, I don’t care, just…don’t break it? I kind of do need a vacuum what with tourists coming in and out every other day.” He paused for a second, his face conflicted. “Do you want me to go?”

Ford shook his head, glad to have the company as Stan nodded and relaxed again, clearly wanting to keep an eye. He focused his energy on the vacuum instead, ignoring Stan’s prying eyes in favour of having someone close if this wasn’t a false alarm. He hadn’t been able to count on someone in a very long time and the notion was reassuring. He shifted into a crouched position, edging closer to the vacuum before in a quick flash that made Stan jump back he kicked the offending appliance over.

He stilled instantly, silent and observant as he waited for the tell-tale growling sound to start up again.

When nothing happened he gave the vacuum another smaller tap with his foot, reaching out as far as his leg would go in case he needed to bolt away from it. He scurried around the other side, repeating the motion a few more times before he dared shuffle closer to the brush end, taking a few sharp sniffs. He sneezed, shaking his head in revulsion at the dust, but glad he couldn’t smell the acidic poison that accompanied a Rotwraith trail, especially pungent around any creatures that had fallen into its path. He continued, feeling the tension ebbing away slowly with each sense content that there was no threat.

He glanced back up at Stan when he was satisfied, his body suddenly exhausted from the amount of adrenaline that had been forced through it. He was too tired to even feel ashamed anymore under the relief. He smiled, hoping to convey to Stan that he was done but it dropped almost instantly as he catalogued Stan’s expression.

He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Stan?”

Stan shook his head when Ford spoke, jolting himself out of whatever had been playing across his mind. Ford took in each detail; the fake smile, that didn’t reach his eyes, plastered across his face, trying to hide the slight tremor to his lower lip.

“You done?” With deliberate and slow movements he picked the appliance back up, giving it a once over before he pushed it into corner of the room, easily hidden or visible, which Ford realised was purely for his benefit and left the choice up to him.

He still didn’t get how Stan knew exactly what to do in these moments when his own brain seemed to forsake him and leave him in the lurch.

“Does your back still hurt?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, soft and pained and suddenly the relief was engulfed by vulnerability. He had just shown so much weakness in front of his brother, acted so differently from his normally controlled, aloof and analytical response that he’d been trying his best to hide behind with varying degrees of success.

“Sixer, I told you, I’m fine.” Stan straightened up before turning to him, his smile far more genuine and a tad hopeful. “Besides, I can’t really be mad at you.”

“What? Why?”

Stan shrugged. “You thought there was a deadly whatever in there, right?”

Ford nodded, getting lost in the conversation. Stan was anything but predictable these days.

“Well, how can I be mad then?” Stan swept a hand through his hair, obviously embarrassed at having to explain. “You literally pushed me out of the way of danger and put yourself between me and the threat.”

“But there wasn’t a threat.”

“The sentiment was there though.” Stan shrugged again, glancing away. “Guess it’s just nice to know you’d still do that.”

“Of course I would.” Ford frowned. Of course he would, he might still not be on the best terms with his brother but that didn’t mean he’d just watch him get hurt for the sake of a grudge.

Stan’s smile bloomed further. “See? How can I be mad? Always looking out for us, like with that barrier gunk.”

“It’s not gunk, it’s a well-made concoction….and I might be adding to it soon.” Ford’s mind only half paid attention to what he was saying, bantering back instinctively when Stan pretended he didn’t care enough about the details. The rest of his mind was focussing on the fact that Stan had changed the perspective of the conversation from protecting _him_ to protecting the family.

Did he really think Ford wouldn’t look out for him as much as he would the kids?

“Oh yeah? Can you warn me first this time? You almost bit my head off when I stepped on the line. I dread to think what you’d do to a customer if they did the same.”

“S-sure, of course.” Ford drew himself back into the conversation, pulling his mind away from its course into unfamiliar territory that he wasn’t quite ready to address yet. He went to explain, his mind dredging up the poisoned trench idea he’d had before, but Stan’s words stopped him in his tracks, thinking over all the new hypothetical situations that could occur.

He might be sure the kids wouldn’t eat anything and he could deter the pig, he’d already worked all that out.

But he wasn’t sure the frankly gullible tourists Stan drew in had minds to the same calibre.

“It still needs some work.” Ford settled on, watching Stan just nod in acceptance. _He’s not even questioning it, why isn’t he questioning it?_

Ford stood up, mind far too taxed today for any more social interactions or sudden epiphanies. He could feel the pull of the basement, the cool, quiet area to sort everything straight again without any interruptions. He slipped passed Stan without difficulty, grabbing the vacuum as he passed through the doorway, making a hasty retreat.

“For now, I’ll just go start on that silent vacuum…for Mabel.”

“Of course, she’ll be ecstatic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And with that I'm off to sleep. Again hoping Ford isn't too OOC but hopefully I explained well enough that this isn't a normal situation/not how he'd usually act around Stan if he could help it.
> 
> Oh and The Edge Chronicles got brought up to me and made me nostalgic (hence Lullabee tree). So if anyone wants to know vaguely what I was going for with the Rotwraith - it's a mix of a 'Rotsucker' and an 'Edge Wraith' from those books - only visually, their actions are vastly different I think.


	3. Home Comforts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to be up in 5 hours for work, I’m so sorry if anything is rushed but I really wanted to get it up ♥ 200 followers on tumblr, homg ♥

“This is ridiculous.” Ford muttered to himself, hand outstretched to within an inch of the door but he couldn’t quite seem to bring himself to take the plunge and knock. He’d set his shoulders, pushed himself up the stairs and in front of the door and yet now he was here he could feel his resolve crumbling, his body tugging to go back downstairs, back into the basement and pretend he’d never had this stupid idea in the first place.

He grit his teeth, pulling his hand back again to begin the knocking movement afresh when again his hand stalled along with his thoughts, anxiety swirling in his stomach. What was he going to say? Should he apologise? Should he just pretend nothing happened? Invite him out on an adventure?

Ford inwardly scoffed at himself, the questions circling around and around in his head, each one sounding more terrible than the last.

_Hi, Dipper. Sorry for scaring you last week when I dragged you under the sofa. But it’s been pretty obvious that you’ve been avoiding me since. Could we talk?_

He screwed his eyes shut at the shame of it all. Of course, Dipper wouldn’t want to go out on a monster hunt with someone he probably thought was likely to snap at a moment’s notice. It was really no wonder that he hadn’t seen much of the boy since the episode, when before he’d almost been glued to his hip at points.

“Go talk to him, he said. Everything will be fine, he said.” Ford grumbled, rubbing at his face, Stan’s words ringing in his skull. All he really wanted to do in that moment was crack his head against the door and stop _thinking_ for just once. It was overthinking that had gotten him into the mess in the first place and he couldn’t seem to get himself to stop doing that since he got back. Adapting back to this dimension was proving more difficult than he had expected.

He hadn’t noticed just how significantly his experiences beyond the portal had brushed off on him. How many habits he’d picked up along the way, subconsciously slipping into behaviours that kept him alive, kept him safe. Reflexes learnt in response to close encounters, many ingrained not only in his mind buy deep into his skin to serve as a phantom painful reminder.

Everything he did felt like a mass of inconsistencies that he could comprehend the logic behind himself but still couldn’t work out how to explain to anyone else. Stan seemed to be taking it all in stride but he felt the need to clarify that he didn’t just have a few screws loose to the youngsters as well as his brother.

He hated feeling trapped, hated getting cornered in fear that he wouldn’t be able to defend himself, that there wouldn’t be enough room to fight back. The dark unnerved him; always sure he would see multiple eyes catching the small amount of light available or shiny white fangs or the shifting movements of dark furred creatures barely visible in the shade.

Or even worse that one day he would spot one singular bulbous yellow eye staring back at him from the gloom.

And yet he hid himself in the smallest, darkest spots he could find when something spooked him. Found security and comfort in places that he should shy away from.

He knew why he did it, why each hiding spot had been picked out, knew that larger creatures wouldn’t be able to reach him and anything small enough to follow him he could probably dispatch of with little difficulty. Knew that if he just stayed quiet, calm, and as still as possible low to the ground that nothing would find him.

He could startle at the most inane thing. A loud noise at the wrong pitch could send him scuttling for safety, or jumping to protect. Yet he _despised_ the silence. It reminded him of lonely nights around a small fire, eyes locked onto the darkness beyond his little circle of protection, where things seemed to move and flit around him, waiting for him to close his eyes, to let down his guard and let them close. It was funny really, spending so much time alone, he’d have thought that having people around him again would feel like an invasion of his very wide personal bubble. That all the mindless sounds would irritate him for hiding the important noises he was trying to concentrate on. Yet hearing the kids laugh and play, hearing Stan give one of his tours or even the simple sound of the TV on quietly late at night was a welcoming distraction. An odd relief, knowing that there was a normality to this dimension, that his family were safe and sound and happy. The silence took that certainty away from him again. The unknown stillness would send him searching for them, to make sure they were unharmed and content.

Not to mention, everything _smelt wrong_.

He’d gotten so used to the typical smells of dirt and forest and _nature_ that everything smelt so synthetic here that his nose scrunched up at the onslaught of odours. His nose had become conditioned over the other side, he’d had to grow to use it more, like any other creature. He’d learnt the scents of other creatures; he could pinpoint how close they were if he was downwind, could identify what was prey and what to keep a distance from based on smell alone. Could recognize territorial markings and obvious dens having learnt that even the most docile of creatures could turn hostile in the wrong environment with cubs, mates and a home to protect themselves. Whereas some scents just never left. Were easily brought up with just a thought, a fleeting memory.

The iron tang of blood.

The sickly sweet rot of death.

They were not pleasant smells but they were necessary. Necessary warnings that kept him sharp and vigilant. Rotting leaves and the dust cloud of dirt as it was crushed underfoot became a comforting base layer to his senses on the other side of the portal. One that he had become accustomed to, a security blanket now forcefully ripped away from him. None of them had meant to do it, they’d only meant to help. They had given him clothes to wear, clean and washed and ready for him that smelled so pleasant but didn’t offer the same comfort. Had washed the clothes he had brought back with him when he made it clear they were being kept, no-one realising the reassurance behind the familiar smells that had resided in them, not even himself until it was too late. He hadn’t realised the odours had become so engrained, getting a quick sharp shock when he had his first enjoyable shower and realised the scent he couldn’t place was his own underlying one that had become hidden under layers of grime.

It was funny really, how even though he hadn’t been using his nose to its full potential before he’d been flung through the portal, once he had returned his first instinct had been to sniff the air, to check this really was his home dimension. Even now, he didn’t know what he’d been hoping to find but at the time he hadn’t thought, he had just moved further in and found a scent he recognised. It had been mixed up with unfamiliar scents at the time but there was just one that was so unmistakably _Stan_ that he had felt himself go dizzy and light-headed at the sudden rush that he was actually home and this wasn’t just a dream, a mirage brought on from lack of sleep or a hallucination from an unknown assailant.

And then as he took another deep breath to clarify, stepping closer to his brother and ignoring the wide eyed look of concern, the nostalgia vanished in one fell swoop leaving a bitter uncontrollable rage because the scent was most definitely his idiotic brother _Stan_. And then as suddenly as it came, the rage left, the wafting metallic trace of blood sparking distress and regret instead of caution for once in his mind.

Contradiction after contradiction after contradiction.

It would be a miracle if he didn’t get institutionalised.

A sudden small thud pulled him away from his internal monologue with a huff of surprise. His mind blanked out in horror as he opened his eyes again to find the door a lot closer than it had been before. In his mindless state he’d taken his own words to heart, his forehead now resting against the cool wooden door.

At least it _had_ actually been a useful way to stop his thoughts running themselves ragged.

“Grunkle Ford?”

It did not help his heart rate from slowing down to a manageable level though as it set his earlier plans into motion.

He cleared his throat, shaking himself quickly before he opened the door without another thought and smiled brightly at Mabel, trying his hardest to seem normal. “Hello, Mabel. How’d you know it was me?”

“Cause no one else would wait that long outside without knocking.” Mabel looked up from her spot on the floor, legs swinging behind her as she laid out with a sprawl of coloured paper and pens around her.

Ford’s smile dropped, a sheepish look taking over. “You knew I was there the whole time? Why didn’t you just call out?”

“Didn’t want to rush you.” Mabel shrugged, going back to chewing on her pen as she thought out the layout of the book in front of her.

“O-Oh.” Ford coughed again, closing the door behind him and going to sit on her bed. He shuffled around her work, not wanting to step on anything important but also irrevocably curious all of a sudden as to what was holding her attention so avidly. They didn’t speak often but Ford always found her calming in her intensity. It was nice to listen to someone so passionate, for their interests to be so different and nevertheless hold his attention for hours purely with her enthusiastic nature. “Is Dipper around?”

“No, he’s out in the woods looking for something or other.”

“Ahh.” Ford hummed thoughtfully, trying not to show his disappointment at not being invited or even told by the boy that he was going out. He shook it off, looking over Mabel’s shoulder. “Can I help with anything you’re working on then?”

Mabel glanced over her shoulder at him again, obviously shocked at the offer. “Uhh, well, not this one but…” She spun around a few times as she stood, glancing around the room before with a bright smile she grabbed a small package from her bedside cabinet and presented it to Ford. “I meant to give this to you earlier, so now is as good a time as any.”

Ford blinked down at the paper bag now in his lap before pulling out the woollen item inside without any fanfare, curiosity and confusion getting the better of him. He smiled softly at the work, having seen the amount of knitting the small girl did on a daily basis and now realising why he’d caught her staring intensely at his own often worn jumper only a few days before. He straightened out her creation and held it before him, trying not to laugh at the multitude of small pictures that littered it in a way that convinced him she hadn’t been able to stick to one design but had thought making him more than one sweater might have been pushing her luck. “It’s lovely, Mabel, thank you.” He pulled the sweater up further so he could see her underneath it on the floor, beaming proudly.

It was then that something odd caught his eye.

He lowered the item again, flicking it slightly to make sure he was seeing things correctly. “Uhh, Mabel…can I ask why the neck is so…long?” He let the sweater drop onto his knees, turning the turtle neck up a few times to check it really was an odd length and not just his eye sight.

“That’s for sweater town.”

“Sweater town?” Ford raised an eyebrow at the matter of fact tone, completely lost.

“Well…” Mabel suddenly sounded a lot less sure of herself as she continued, her feet shuffling nervously as she tightened her hands together. “See, whenever I get sad or lonely I find that it helps to pull my sweater up like this.” She demonstrated, showing Ford that all her sweaters had an extra few rows of stitches in the necks. “It’s really comforting and I thought it might…help?”

“Oh.” Ford looked back down at the item, his mind deserting him. He knew she meant well, knew that she was just coming up with things from her own limited experiences to try and combat his concerns but this wasn’t the type of hiding that he was sure would be capable of stilling his fraying nerves if he had a panic attack.

“Uhm, I guess it feels reassuring because somehow whenever I’m upset and in sweater town, Dipper always seems to be able to find me.”

Ford smiled at that, a wistful gaze manifesting and taking over his concerns about changing the subject before he had to let her down gently. “You know, I never was able to confirm it scientifically but I’m sure that’s a twin thing. Stan used to be able to do that.”

“He still does, I think.”

Ford nodded unconsciously along with her. Stan had startled him by finding him in one of his hiding places around the house on more than one occasion since the sofa episode. He always had an excuse, a loud noise had made him jump so he wondered if Ford had had the same reaction, or he’d just been looking for something in that room and noticed Ford’s coat under the desk, but now Ford wondered if it was that or if he had just _known_.

Maybe the sweater would be useful after all as a safety blanket.

He brought the present up to his face, curling his arms around it and giving it what he hoped was a surreptitious sniff. From the bubbling proud laugh he received, he knew he was unsuccessful when he let out a small huff of surprise and gave himself away.

The sweater smelled of fresh pine, the familiar smell relaxing nerve endings he didn’t know were on edge.

He felt his cheeks flush with colour and dropped the present beside him on the bed. “T-thank you, Mabel. It’s lovely. I’ll be sure to wear it before you go.” He looked around, focusing on the craft supplies on the floor, a swift distraction that he lunged at quickly. “So, what were you working on before I interrupted?”

She looked down at the book, her face suddenly anxious. “Actually that’s another present for you but I don’t know if you’ll like it or not.”

“Anything you make, I’m sure I’ll treasure.”

“Well it’s a joint effort between me and Dipper.” Mabel shrugged, her foot still jiggling before she sat back down and rummaged around under her bed. “I’m making scrapbooks, I do that a lot and Dipper’s helping me add to them to make them more interesting for you and Stan. You wanna help me make Grunkle Stan’s?” Her face dropped as she took in Ford’s expression, his face slack with surprise. “Did I say something wrong, Grunkle Ford?”

“Huh? No, I just…didn’t think Dipper was very impressed with me.” Ford looked away, scratching at his chin when Mabel continued to look perplexed. “I haven’t seen much of him since the incident last week.” He jumped a foot in the air when a small hand patted him on the leg, the other coming up to grab his hand as he tore his eyes away from an interesting patch on the wall and back to his Great niece.

“Grunkle Ford, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.” Mabel grinned at him brightly, before she pulled away just enough to grab a small notepad from the floor next to her. “You can’t see the end result yet but maybe this will help.”

“I don’t…” Ford frowned as Mabel gave his hand a squeeze before pushing the small book into his hand and going back to her work on the floor, getting out a large brightly coloured scrapbook labelled ‘Grunkle Stan’s Summer’ and proceeded to scatter an array of photos around her to pick for the perfect next page. Taking that as being dismissed for a moment from the conversation, Ford glanced back down at the solid weight in his hands. He frowned down at it before flicking open to the front page, instantly noting the two different sets of handwriting that littered it. He skimmed it at first, not really understanding what he was reading until it all caught up to him in one fell swoop, his other hand tightening around his knee in a mix of shame at himself and pride at the twins.

They’d been watching him.

And they’d been figuring out how to help.

There were copious amounts of notes from Dipper, he found. Pages and pages of creatures hidden deep in the woods that he had no idea even existed here; how to spot them, what they sounded like, what they smelt like, whether they were a threat and what their habitats looked like all written down to minute detail along with a photograph if possible paper-clipped to the page. There were other pages littered with detailed preventative measures to wrap around the shack for any dangerous ones, items and trinkets that made sense to Ford as he read them but he had no idea how Dipper had come by the information. He could also make out Mabel’s handwriting on a few of them as she pointed out easier ways to get hold of them, the diary becoming a conversation between the two of them that made him smile.

_Grunkle Ford put maple leaves on the windowsills today. I think the closest tree is near the gnome village._ Ford tilted the page, nodding at the small scribbled map that had been added, happy to know there was a tree closer than the one he’d found previously. His eyes skimmed over to Mabel’s addition, curiosity taking over before he smiled at the obvious tone to her words.

_There’s also one in town though, the park there is probably a lot safer._

He shook his head, wondering how Dipper’s efforts to find a nearby tree had just been dashed with one small sentence from his sister. He continued on, noticing as he went further and further just how perceptive his niece was. Whilst Dipper was working on making sure anything unfamiliar to Ford could now be catalogued, Mabel seemed to be working on watching him and gaining insight on to what was familiar to him but sudden in the wrong context. These were obviously not notes meant for him to read, more things to guide them and help with whatever project they were working on for him.

_Grunkle Ford seemed lost today in the kitchen. Think it was the new worktop cleaner Grunkle Stan’s been using. He also doesn’t seem to like it when I wear my perfume. Note: Add scratch and sniff stickers to the scrapbook._

_Get some of those Campfire scented candles sent here from home – might help him sleep better._

_Those loud spluttering noises you can hear right now are Grunkle Stan’s car. He keeps saying he’ll fix her up but he never does because ‘it gives her character’ so every time he starts it, it makes that noise. Don’t touch the car and try and fix it yourself though like the vacuum, he might not forgive you for touching his baby._

_Yellow is a lovely colour, I hope Bill hasn’t ruined it for you…I need to find nice yellow things to collage for you._

_I know that Mabel juice may look toxic but I swear it isn’t! Here’s the list of ingredients so you don’t pour it away and call it a biohazard again._

_Add some pages on technology over the last 30 years. He’s so smart but some things are bound to throw him and we won’t be around to explain sometimes._

_(Mabel, he’s been to countless dimensions, I’m sure he’s seen everything before.)_

_Dipper, my ringtone had him glaring at the radio before taking it apart because he couldn’t understand how songs were coming out without it being plugged in._

Without explaining anything, Mabel seemed to have understood all his little quirks without judgement.

He flicked to the back quickly, realising it was entirely full, Dipper must be onto number two already. It hit him then that that’s where he was, out in the forest finding notes for his benefit, not wanting him to know because he knew Ford would tell him he didn’t have to look after him like that. He gulped back the swell of emotion bubbling up in his throat. He was upset that they felt the need to do this but it was heart-warming too, a bittersweet emotion he couldn’t put his finger on. The knowledge that they weren’t upset or scared of him and were instead intent on helping him feel more secure now he was back lodging deep in his core. He looked back down at the book and over to Mabel, noting that she wasn’t really doing much, instead zoning out on the page she was staring at, probably waiting for the fall out she thought was inevitable. His voice croaked as he went to speak, too full of emotion. “A-are you going to add any of your findings to Stan’s scrapbook?”

“They aren’t findings, we weren’t researching you or anything. We just wanted to make sure we didn’t do anything to hurt you.” Mabel frowned, not really looking at him as her words trailed off quietly. “We kind of spoke about that though? But we were going to put a page about him in yours too so you both didn’t get on each other’s nerves once we left.”

“What?” Ford snapped out of his thoughts, his shame dwindling quickly to be replaced by interest. “What kind of things?”

“Just little things. Like don’t make him face his fear of heights, I tried once and it seemed like it had worked for a while and then he got stuck on the roof when he felt bold enough to fix it. Or that if you see a golf club or baseball bat anywhere round the house leave it where it is ‘cause they’re a security measure and he knows exactly where each one should be at all times in case anything happens. We took the golf clubs upstairs one night and didn’t realise until a few days later when he scrabbled behind the sofa for one after something chased Dipper inside from the woods that they had been there for a reason.” Mabel winced, rubbing at the back of her head. “I think he has a scar on his knuckles from punching the thing in the mouth that time. He’s also super protective of his car so you shouldn’t touch it and we found out you shouldn’t bring up his tattoo, he gets super defensive about it.” Mabel shrugged, not noticing Ford’s face drop at her words. “Oh! And don’t bang loudly on the door, he gets twitchy when people sound like they’re going to break the door down, I think it has something to do with the police and he hates the smell of cigars for some reason, to the point where he actually told a tourist lighting one in the shack to get out even though they looked like they were going to buy something! And…” She petered off, glancing back at Ford, her face suddenly apprehensive. “Never mind, that one doesn’t matter actually.”

“Mabel.” Ford put the book beside him, reaching out a hand to her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I’m not mad at all for you taking care of me and I’m glad you’ve done the same for Stan too. But I need to know that I won’t upset him unintentionally.” He tried to catch her eye, tugging her round when she tried her best not to look at him still. “I’ve already brought up his sc-tattoo accidentally, I don’t want another repeat of that.”

Mabel bit her lip before looking up at him, her face a picture of apprehension. “He’s not a lover of dark enclosed places.” She came closer, hugging his knees when he froze at her words. “I know you think they’re really safe spaces but if you were to pull him into one with you, he might freak out and I know you need to know that but I didn’t want you to think you had to leave your comfort zones because Grunkle Stan would hate me if I did that.” The words came out in a torrent, each word holding a silent apology behind it.

“He’s never…”

“Of course not, he’s just been concerned about coaxing you out and making sure you knew everything was OK. But I don’t think Grunkle Stan has a fight or flight instinct. He only has fight installed.”

“That’s not very comforting.”

Mabel shrugged. “Maybe not but just…trust me when I say that small spaces don’t make him feel safe?”

Ford nodded, cataloguing the piece of information under ‘Stan’ and ‘important’ in his mind before he looked back at her again, trying to smile reassuringly. “So, how did you find that out exactly?”

“Watching him take a deep breath before he went in the elevator down to the basement when we both came to bring you dinner.” Mabel pulled back before scrabbling up on the bed to sit in his lap, pulling Stan’s scrapbook up with her so she could continue her work.

“You’re very astute, Mabel.” Ford nodded, filing the knowledge again for later referral, when he could actually fully process what that would have meant for the last 30 years of fixing the portal day in and day out. For now though it was time to change the subject. “So, how exactly did you and Dipper find all these paranormal creatures in the last week?”

Mabel tilted back against him so she could see him again. “Dipper’s out bribing the gnomes for information.”

“He knows how to bribe gnomes?”

“Yep.” Mabel hummed, chirping happily when Ford pointed out the best place in Stan’s scrapbook for the photo in her hands. “Me and the girls found out how to when we went hunting for that Unicorn hair you sent us after.”

“…You think you can teach me?”

“Of course!”

 

* * *

 

Stan did a double take as he walked passed the living room doorway, noting Ford curled up on the sofa in a garishly bright sweater that was also serving as a scarf halfway up his face, his fingers curled in the neck of it as he watched the TV in a vaguely dazed manner. “You OK there, Sixer?”

“Hmm?” Ford snapped out of his tranquil moment, peeking up at his brother over the sweater’s stitching. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying out Mabel’s new present for me. She thought it might steady my nerves.”

Stan blinked at him a few more times, a smile blooming on his face at Ford’s confession or more to the point the fact that there was no sense of shame or embarrassment in the words as he said them. Just a simple fact, an acceptance that it had happened and there was nothing to be ashamed of with everything he had been through. “Oh? Do you think she was on to something?”

Ford took another deep breath, letting the recognisable scents wash over him, a grin to rival Stan’s hidden deep within the fabric.

“Yeah, I think she might have been.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I really just needed some cute Ford/Mabel moments, so I wrote this XD


	4. Watch My Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Whoo another one-shot based on conversations about this AU. I’ll warn now that this particular fic is someone reacting badly/ableist to Ford’s PTSD and Stan having none of it.
> 
> I have one more one-shot that I’m almost finished with for this AU! Might try and get it out tonight to try and make up for having some sporadic scheduling over the last weeks unless people are happy for me to queue it up tomorrow and have more time to get to the next one.
> 
> Oh and as I said before, I’m not looking at my tumblr dash and if anyone messages me please do not say anything about trailers/promos that have come out, I’m not watching them, I just want to watch the last ep without spoilers x (I also won’t be able to watch it until Tuesday/Wednesday so I really will not be attempting tumblr when the ep has come out)

“Hey, Stan?”

“Hmm?” Stan glanced up from the kitchen table, pen still poised over the book balancing he was doing. He tilted his head as his brother stood half in the room, half out, as if apprehensive of getting in the way or worried about what he wanted to say. He frowned, concerned, his hand dropped as he turned around in his chair properly, arm resting on the back of his chair. “You alright there, Sixer?”

Ford nodded quickly, stepping further into the room, hands playing with the bottom of his turtleneck sub-consciously. “Yes, yes, fine.” He glanced around for a few moments, eyes not able to rest as he tried to think about what he was going to say. He could feel irritability clawing through his mind at his sudden inability to formulate words. This shouldn’t be that difficult! Yet his mind kept filling up with all the ‘what if’s’ and worst case scenarios and everything in between for what he was about to ask for. And all of those were focussing on the plan going south later without even processing the thought that Stan might reject the notion entirely.

It was funny really, how the idea when he’d first thought of it had filled him with a small sliver of hope and the promising prospect of some peace. How the thought had made him sit up straight, nodding to himself a few times as he realised the benefits of the small little gesture he had been planning.

Making the thought a reality was proving far more difficult and anxiety consuming, however.

The kids had gone home. Their summer together had ended with little fanfare, just a bittersweet farewell and the reassuring knowledge that it wouldn’t be the last they saw of them. It was nothing like he had envisioned every time he closed his eyes, forever expecting to wake up the next morning and find Bill crowing over the end of the world, on his doorstep. It had been anti-climactic to say the least but Ford wasn’t going to complain. A life time spent running, fighting for his life against some unimaginable creatures on the other side of the portal had dulled some of that intrepid adventurous spirit him and his brother had once joyfully boasted about as kids. He was quite happy to not have to face a ravenous demon hell-bent on world domination if he could help it.

Unfortunately, though the severe lack of a threat with no real rhyme or reason had taken its toll on him. His nerves still frayed at the slightest of noises and smells. Small movements or flashes of yellow made his jaw lock and his hackles raise. He didn’t understand why Bill hadn’t made a move, surely he’d had a back-up plan to the portal being dismantled? Surely, he’d thought of some way to get through?

Maybe he was sitting somewhere laughing at him, hoping to watch him slowly plunge back into that lonely paranoia he had once drowned him in 30 years ago. When he had no one to turn to, no one to trust and the demon had mocked him from the shadows of his sleep-deprived mental state. Reminding him how much betrayal stung and how trust was the worst thing you could give to another person. How giving them that terrible hold over you would only end in pain when the inevitable happened.

It was when those dark moments tried to consume him that he would find himself stumbling upstairs back into the house. When he was sure that Bill was just waiting for the right moment to strike and the laboratory that was once his safe haven felt enclosed and claustrophobic. He’d find himself pushing passed the vending machine, just to listen to the everyday sounds of his family living around him. The smells and bright colours that he associated with them stilling the frantic thud of his heart and reminding him that he did have people he could trust and that Bill would rue the day he ever tried to take on the Pines family again.

But it made the silence that much more unbearable.

The kids had gone and in their wake, a quiet hush had taken over the house. Stan had become more subdued, Ford noticed the first few nights they’d gone. Not so much when there were others around, his employees or customers getting his usual jovial gruffness, but when he thought he was alone or didn’t have to keep up the charade. The times when he would shout up the stairs to the kids that their show was on or make too many portions of dinner before remembering they weren’t there. His smile would fall before he sat himself in front of the TV, food almost forgotten, his face no longer holding the glee it had once held at watching the, in Ford’s opinion, strange cartoon.

His mood hadn’t lasted long though. Ford had become more restless, often seeking him out unconsciously. The silence would drag on and he’d find himself needing to check on his brother, especially on the days when the Mystery Shack was closed or particularly empty as the tourist season ran down. With no customers to track around the shack, Stan would potter in the gift shop or make up new exhibits, not needing to keep up the bubbling gruff Mr Mystery persona whose voice travelled all the way down to the basement on a regular basis. And so more often than not Ford would find himself peeking out from behind the vending machine or slipping into Stan’s office just to be safe. That is until Stan had seemed to realise what was happening and shook off the gloom that was the departure of their favourite niblings in favour of keeping both their spirits up.

Ford had started to notice a radio get left on in the background if no one but them was in, Stan singing to himself as he got on with work. He’d plucked up the courage to ask one day and watched Stan flub and fluster about how he thought Ford wouldn’t be able to hear him from all the way down in the basement.

He knew it was all a lie but he didn’t argue with him, gratitude bubbling up at the gesture.

Stan had also started to interrupt him more. Where once he might have been uneasy about dragging Ford away from his lab, he now made the effort to come down every few hours and check on him like clockwork, a reassurance to both of them that the other was ok. He even seemed to read his mood well depending on the day. He sometimes stayed down with him if he seemed particularly restless or dragged him upstairs for some sudden very ‘important’ task to occupy his mind. He even dropping away without argument on occasion, leaving him to the peace and quiet thrum of his work if he took in that he was invading his personal bubble a bit too much just by being there.

Ford had started to make an effort to on that front though, when he flicked through the scrapbook that the twins had left him with a fond smile and remembered with a sickening jolt that Stan was not a lover of the elevator and was pushing passed it just for him.

He made the effort on his better days, when his adrenaline wasn’t kicking in and he wasn’t on high alert for something, _anything_ to suddenly appear, to check the time every so often and make his way up to the ground floor before Stan had a chance to come down to him.

A small smile tugged on his lips whenever he remembered Stan’s happy but confused expression the first few times he had found him up with him without any coaxing. Happy to not say a word if it meant his brother was out of his lonely study and wanted to spend some time with him.

And now here he was trying to return some of the gestures. Trying to do something he knew Stan would like and push their relationship that little bit further along the way and he couldn’t find it in himself to just open his mouth and get on with it! They were patching things up slowly and it was good, this common ground they’d found. No longer civil and distant, instead more peaceful and reassuring but he wanted to make sure that Stan knew his efforts weren’t going to waste on him.

“Ford? _Hey_ , I have no idea what’s going on in that big ol’ head of yours but whatever it is I’m pretty sure you’re overthinking it.”

Ford’s eyes snapped back to Stan, as he waved his hand in front of him, the concern in his eyes making him let all the air out of his lungs in a slow hiss. He smiled shakily as Stan nodded with him, smiling brightly as he took slow breaths as well, obviously hopeful that Ford would continue to mimic him. He gave a small self-deprecating huff of laughter, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, yeah I’m overthinking. God, this is stupid, I was just going to-”

“ _Stop_ , whatever it is, it’s not stupid. Now out with it.”

“Iwonderedifyouwantedtogooutfordinner.” The concern and slight apprehension on Stan’s face had sent the words tumbling from his mouth in a torrent. He wasn’t entirely sure his words had completely been in English if Stan’s uncomprehending facial expression was anything to go by. Ford coughed, standing up straighter, his fingers twiddling around one another as he took another breath. “I just wondered, we’re- I’m always stuck up here. And there used to be this nice diner in town, I don’t know if it’s still there…”

“Oh.”

Ford winced, his eyes closing as if Stan had physically hit him. “Yeah, right, dumb idea, sorry. Definitely nothing to get so worried about.” He turned on his heel, about to leave when he felt a hand tugging at the back of his sweater.

“Hey. I didn’t say that. I was just surprised. You really want to go into town?”

Ford shrugged, not turning around. He found it easier to keep talking that way. “I don’t know, you and the kids did it a lot and I thought maybe there was a place you liked in town. Thought it might be nice for us to go.” He gestured around vaguely, his words coming out faster and faster as he came up with excuses, his brain to mouth filter shutting off. “Probably should have done this _before_ the kids went home but I just thought, might be nice for us two. To go and have some food and chat and…stuff?” His voice trailed away, unsure and suddenly vulnerable. Why would Stan want to do any of that anyway? It would end up with an awkward meal, or worse something would set him off and he’d spoil _everything_ -

Stan cut off the intrusive thoughts because they could congeal any further.

“I’d love that.” His voice was soft, the gruff edge it usually held vanishing under a hushed awe that Ford was, in a sense, reaching out to him. He gave Ford’s top another tug, tilting around him until he got the hint to turn and face him. He made sure his face was serious, eyes reassuring yet carefully observant all at the same time. Whatever happened he wouldn’t judge or be upset. “But as much as I’d love to…are you sure? I don’t want you in an uncomfortable position just ‘cause of me.”

“N-no, I want to. I want to know…” _That I can? That there’s nothing dangerous out there?_ He couldn’t say the words outloud, didn’t really know what was more pressing, but it was obvious that Stan got the hint, nodding as he stood up. “I just thought it would be a nice evening?” His words came out more as a question than a statement, hoping that a trip into town with someone beside him might ease the tension he had at going there in general.

“Alright, Sixer, but you have to promise me that if you feel bad or uncomfortable or just plain want to come back, _you tell me_. You got that? You tell me and we come straight back here and we order take out or something and there’s no shame in that, ok?” Stan made sure that Ford was holding his eye contact as he said all this.

Ford nodded, any tension remaining in him vanishing at Stan’s word and as he patted him on the shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze before dropping away from him. Stan didn’t expect anything of him, he had planned this himself but his twin wouldn’t make him stay if things got overwhelming. It alleviated at least some of the anxiety still curling in his gut.

Everything would be fine, they would have an enjoyable evening and nothing bad would happen.

Ford clenched his hands tightly for a moment before making himself relax and follow Stan out the front door.

Nothing would happen.

 

* * *

 

Something bad had happened.

And it had all started out so _well_.

Ford could feel the heat rising in his neck and cheeks, the shame bubbling up relentlessly as his head bowed downwards, his eyes glued to his plate.

All he’d wanted was a pleasant evening.

And it had been great, there was good food just like he remembered and vaguely familiar faces. Stan had made sure to point out and ramble about every single person for his benefit while they waited before they settled into soft conversation. Nothing too taxing, nothing too probing, just fun stories or what they should do now they didn’t have the kids to while away the hours in a normal day. They’d even made plans, more trips out when they could, little adventures of their own.

Ford had even vaguely hinted at helping with the shack, coming up with ideas Stan could use for his next exhibits.

He’d all but grinned when Stan’s eyes lit up at the prospects.

And then _he_ had come along.

Ford didn’t know who the stranger was, that had wandered over to their table but he couldn’t help the way his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed as they disturbed them and stood close to Stan’s back. Even though it wasn’t his own personal space being intruded, his whole body screamed for the man to _back off_. He knew it was stupid, could tell that the man was surprised by his obvious warning signs, but for some reason until Stan told him the man wasn’t a threat, he didn’t feel comfortable with him _standing that close to his brother_.

“Well, if it isn’t the town fraud. Still tricking gullible tourists with your fake monsters?”

“Takes one to know one. Still selling broken down cars?” Stan grunted back with a small smile, nudging Ford’s foot under the table to get his attention back to him. “That’s Buddy Gleeful, he’s just bitter because we got his creepy son put in jail where he belongs.”

Ford raised an eyebrow as Stan spoke plainly, as if the man wasn’t beside him now spluttering in indignation.

“Now listen here-”

“Why? I’m trying to eat dinner in peace here. Unless you’re here to apologise for your son.” Stan took one look over at him before returning to his food, gesturing for Ford to do the same and just ignore him.

“I have nothing to apologise for.”

Ford felt his mouth tighten into a grimace as Stan propped his head up again, he knew that look far too well. He was obviously up for a fight, his mouth coiling into a dangerous smile, eyes alight with mischief.

“Really?”

Each word out of his mouth set Ford more on edge.

“So you _don’t_ think he tried to manipulate Mabel and then got angry at the twins when she said no to him?”

“Wait a min-”

“Or maybe him stealing the deed to my house and kicking us out of our home was completely OK with you?”

“He did _what_?”

 The pair went quiet as Ford hissed out the words, his cutlery clenched tightly in his fists. He didn’t notice their expressions until Stan gave him another nudge under the table. Didn’t care that the other man was giving him a funny look in favour of being furious at this unknown person who had threatened his family on more than one occasion.

Maybe it was just the thought of Stan being kicked out of his house _again_ that made his heart thump viciously against his ribcage.

Stan shrugged. “S’alright Sixer. We beat him, got the house back and now he’s rotting in a jail cell, like he should be. And hey! He had your second journal so you know, win-win.”

“Look, I don’t care what you think, that’s my _son_ , you’re-”

It was Ford’s turn to interrupt the man, a dark growl rumbling through his chest. It hadn’t been a conscious action. The man’s eyes had seemed to darken at Stan’s continuous disruptions and he had put his hand on Stan’s shoulder as if to turn him round, his other hand clenched ready to grab at his collar and pull him out of the seat. It wasn’t even a threat, not really but Ford took it as such, his mind roaring. _Don’t you dare touch him_. He hadn’t been able to stop the sound that tore through him, or how his eyes flicked between the hand and the man’s face, his fist clenched tight around the knife in a very unsubtle warning.

“Easy, he was just leaving, weren’t you, Bud?” Stan reached up to disgustedly push the hand off of his shoulder, grimacing as it tightened its hold there instead. “You will lose those fingers of yours if you don’t let go.” His words were punctuated by another growling nod from his brother across the table who took that moment to slowly rise from his seat, ready to launch himself forward if needed.

Ford relaxed slightly as the man took heed of them both and dropped his hand, taking a step out of Ford’s reach and away from Stan’s personal space. He ignored the weird nervous look he was getting, choosing to instead continue standing and glaring at the man, making it clear he wasn’t welcome anywhere near.

The man looked between them a few more times before scoffing, an offended expression twisting his mouth as he spun away from them. A small hiss of a word muttered under his breath still managed to reach Ford’s ears, on high alert and attentive to every detail.

“ _Freak_.”

The knife fell to the table with a clatter.

Ford felt the anger desert him, his stomach twisting in shame and vulnerability. Had he over-reacted? Was none of that really a threat? He swallowed thickly, realising the entire diner had gone eerily silent around them. He took one look up, noting that all eyes were trained resolutely away from them before he slowly sunk back into his chair. He stared down at his now cooling food, wishing the world would let him drop through the floor, letting himself sink further and further down to the comfort of the dark space below the table. _Freak_. The word still stung as much as it had when he was a kid, his hands darting quickly under the table, out of sight and out of mind. He’d just wanted to protect his brother, he hadn’t meant to cause a scene. He’d just made things worse. Stan would never want to go anywhere with him again, scared of how he’d-

“ _What the hell did you say_?”

Ford jumped, eyes back up in shock as a chair screeched loudly backwards across the linoleum, setting his teeth on edge. His brother’s voice had been almost as deep a growl as his own had as he towered intimidatingly in front of Bud, his eyes dark and vicious, chest puffed out threateningly. Ford felt everything lock up again as Stan forced his way right up in Bud’s face, wanting nothing more than to pull him back, tell him to stop, to not to do anything stupid for the sake of a dumb word but he couldn’t get the words out, starting to feel overwhelmed and vastly out of place. If it wasn’t for the fact that Bud was backing up, hands weakly thrown up in defence, then he might still have felt the overwhelming desire to protect Stan from the threat. Stan was making it crystal clear that he was in charge of the situation, easing any doubt in Ford’s mind that he wouldn’t be able to control the fallout.

“You do not come near me or my brother again, do I make that clear?” Stan seethed, waiting for the other man to take the hint and back off a few more paces before he let his gaze trail over the rest of the diner. “Anyone else have anything to say?”

Ford’s shoulders hunched up further around his ears, waiting for the onslaught. A small hysterical bubble of laughter echoed through his head at his response. Two seconds ago he’d been ready to defend Stan against anything and yet now he felt like a child again, susceptible to the words they threw at him. His flight response was kicking in. It was time to run, to drag Stan with him and go back to the Shack. It was safe there. This had all been a mistake. He felt more than saw Stan sit back down opposite him, the entire diner silent as a grave. Ford gulped, pushing the plate away from him. “Stan, let’s just-”

“No, you did nothing wrong.” Stan cut him off, sighing at the cringing response the sharp words got him. He closed his eyes guiltily, taking a deep breath in to calm the rage trembling through him before letting it out shakily and dropping his quickly picked up cutlery again. “Sorry, no, I said we would leave when you wanted to leave.”

“You sure you two wouldn’t like me to grab you another drink?”

Ford flinched, pushing himself back into the cushion of the chair as the voice startled him. He glanced up, noting the warm apologetic smile of the waitress that Stan had called ‘Lazy Susan’ with slight apprehension. He tried to smile back but it came out as a tight grimace, his nerves still spiking. “No, thank you and sorry for- sorry for that whole-” He gestured at himself vaguely, earning himself an upset pained noise from Stan that he tried his best to ignore.

“Thanks, Susan but I’m not sure we appreciate some of the company tonight.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. He was just leaving.” Susan’s words were sharp, her eyes turned away from their table and missing the identical looks of shock on their faces. “I don’t appreciate you trying to start trouble in my diner, Bud. You’d best remember that next time you walk in that door.” She turned back to the twins, a professional smile back on her face as they heard the door slam loudly from across the room. “You sure you don’t want me to reheat your food for you two? It probably got cold in all that kerfuffle.”

“I can’t say no to that.” Stan grinned at her, winking before his smile dropped sheepishly. “That is if you want to stay, Ford?”

Ford glanced around the diner again, tilting his head as the volume slowly started to return. He nodded once, his smile more genuine as he looked at Susan, even if he couldn’t voice his gratitude, his throat still tight.

Stan waited until Susan had vanished, leaning in across the table. “You sure? We can go. I wouldn’t blame you after that. He just had to come and spoil everything. I probably shouldn’t have riled him up though. Never did know when to shut my mouth, did I?”

“G-got you in as much trouble as it got you out of it, that mouth of yours.”

Stan chuckled, glad his brother wasn’t staying quiet nor looked like he wanted to hide under the table anymore. “True, I might be dumb but I can lie through my teeth.”

“You’re not dumb.” The words came out without any thought, Ford’s eyebrows furrowing quickly.

“If you say so.” Stan shrugged, looking around. Before Ford could say a word, he carried on, quick so as not to lose his nerve. “Thanks for, you know, coming to my defence and all.” He glanced back at his brother when he heard a weird giggle slip from his lips. “What? What’s funny?”

“Us?” Ford didn’t really know why he was laughing, it wasn’t that funny but it felt it in that moment, unable to stop the shaking chuckles pooling out of him. “I thought he was going to hurt you so yeah of course I came to your defence, yet somehow it ended up with you fighting for my honour instead? Just seems so-” He found himself flailing around for words, settling down with his elbow propped on the table, chin in his hand and an ironic smile on his face. “Counter-productive?” _Ridiculous, more like._

“Not really.”

“No?” Ford raised an eyebrow, finding himself settling again, nerves no longer electric as the mood in the diner grew steadily warmer, the quiet hum of conversation around them easing him back, Stan’s overtly relaxed air and content expression forcefully pushing the anxiety away, his entire being whispering that _everything’s OK, I promise._

“Nah, just means I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine.”

Ford blinked at him owlishly a few times, a grin spreading across his face that matched Stan’s tooth for tooth when the words sunk in and he found that he believed them wholeheartedly. “Still doesn’t seem like a good strategy.”

“Details, details.” Stan waved a hand at him flippantly.

“But-”

“No, buts, just facts. I’ve got your back, end of conversation.” Stan leant forward conspiratorially, eyes glancing at the table and up again. “Now how about you stop hiding them hands of yours and go back to animatedly telling me about the Gremloblin you found.”

Ford blinked again at Stan’s untactful and blunt approach. He glanced down, not even realising he had one hand still tightly wrapped around his knee, the other hidden under his chin where he was propping his head up. He chuckled at Stan’s approving noise as he carefully moved his hands back to the table, ignoring the initial response to hide them again as he focussed back on their earlier conversation. His hands twitched along with him as he got back into the story, ready to accentuate his points and exaggerate others.

“Now where was I…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The point of this was ‘Bud threatens Stan’ but I couldn’t actually see him doing it unless Stan kind of…prodded at him? ^^;; I hope it was obvious he came over wanting to start something and not just Stan egging him on cause he did just want him to leave them to their dinner to begin with. The anon ask I saw on this ended with Bud walking off and muttering under his breath but~ Stan. Stan would never let anyone talk about his bro that way.
> 
> Anyway~ I may get on with my version of the 2nd trunk incident au (or whatever its called, idk XD) now ♥


	5. Role Reversal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This started off as a light-hearted little drabble idea based off of this, but you know what my muse said? Make it feelsy and serious so whoops get ready for some more feels? ♥ (I am a terrible person) So now you get some vagueness of Stan’s past which is something people were curious about in this au.
> 
> As is probably becoming usual for this series I should warn about panic attacks.
> 
> Last one for now! Maybe in the future/maybe there’ll be some requests.

_“Don’t move.”_

_Stan’s body seized up, small spasms of terror flitting through him as an arm wrapped tight around his neck, narrowing his airways. He stumbled backwards, the cold metal barrel of a gun pushed deep into the flesh of his back as whoever his assailant was pressed flush against him._

_“Well, if it isn’t my old friend, Pines.”_

_A small whimper escaped him at the familiar voice. The responding chuckling breath right in his ear made him flinch hard and pull away before the gun dug painfully into him in warning, locking him in place again. The arm around his neck moved, his assailants hand shifting across his mouth to muffle any further noise, the motion tight and cloying. Stan felt his breathing hitch, his blood pumping in his ears as he bit down on the inside of his mouth to fight against the scream, clawing up his throat.  Forced himself not to make any sudden movements that would end in his untimely demise._

_Ice ran down his spine, the taste of blood thick on his tongue, biting down harder as the voice continued. The tone masked the menace of the atmosphere with a light heartedness that turned his stomach, wondering what exactly he had planned for him._

“ _I thought I told you to stay still? Let’s not spoil the reunion.”_

Stan woke with a panicked gasp, a small noise of alarm tearing out of him. His hands gripped tightly into the seat beneath him, grounding him to the present as his eyes opened with a snap. He was suddenly wide awake, searching for what had awoken him. Being torn from his nightmares before they’d even really begun was not something he was generally accustomed too throughout the long years of dealing with them. Even when they’d started to become few and far between as time went on and less things reminded him of fateful encounters, he’d still be forced to face them until the worst possible second. The unusual notion of being spared the memories had him more on edge than was probably rational.

His eyes widened, his breaths coming in short harsh pants as he realised why the nightmare had manifested in the first place.

_There was a hand splayed tight across his mouth_.

Another was gripping firmly onto his upper arm, holding him down and still against the seat he’d foolishly fallen asleep in. He started to struggle, his heart beating rapidly as the nightmare trickled back through the cloying darkness, adding to his instincts to escape as quickly as possible.

A small hissing shush and a low growl made him lock up tight again. The air in his lungs finally came out in a long shaky breath as the fingers tightened around his arm in what he could only assume was a warning.

He tried to calm down, tried to regulate his breathing as he realised who it was holding him down. The knowledge did nothing for his mounting levels of distress, however, his mind buzzing with all the possible reasons for his predicament. Why had Ford woken him up like that? Why did he need him to stay quiet? _What was in the house with them_?

He waited for a few moments, barely daring to breathe as Ford stayed silent and unmoving beside him. He wanted nothing more than to somehow signal to him that he wouldn’t speak, that the hand across his mouth was starting to make him quake at unbidden memories. But he couldn’t work out how to do so without Ford thinking he wasn’t heeding his warnings and tighten his hold instead.

He wasn’t sure he could deal quietly with those consequences even if he knew deep down Ford wouldn’t hurt him.

He could feel himself getting light-headed. The urge to fight, to break free jolted through his bloodstream as he sat there, deathly still in the darkness, trying not to visualise shapes and movements in the gloom. He felt trapped, locked in a moment of abject terror, the unknowns of the situation eating away at him.

A soft creak of a floorboard somewhere in the house broke the suffocating moment.

Stan ripped himself away, ignoring the upset noise behind him as he jumped to his feet, muscle memory forcing his arms and legs into familiar movements. _Keep your centre of gravity low, keep moving, grab a weapon._ With this in mind Stan reached back behind the sofa, hand closing without even looking around the bat that rested there. He darted swiftly to the light switch, pointedly ignoring his stomach churning at going near the open doorway that left him open and vulnerable.

He strained his eyes through the sudden brightness, not wanting to blink as the room was bathed in light. It leant an artificial courage back to his movements, his eyes scanning everything the light touched for anything untoward in the room. When the room was checked over to his satisfaction he kept himself out of sight, pressed against the wall to the side of the doorway. Ready and waiting to launch out, bat in hand at anything that unwisely came into the room.

“S-Stan?”

“Shh.” Stan didn’t have time for Ford’s scolding, not right now. He’d apologise later if he needed to for not paying attention to him, for not staying quiet like he’d been warned to. He couldn’t sit still and just wait for an enemy to come to him, it wasn’t in his nature and he’d be sure to point that out to Ford later to make sure this didn’t happen again. ‘The best defence is a good offence’ was a mantra that Stan stuck by and had served him well throughout the years when getting the first hit in had been a matter of life and death. He tilted his head, listening intently as he shuffled along the wall and ever closer to the doorway, waiting to hear whatever it was hit another of the loose floorboards around the house. He never had gotten any of them replaced, even when Soos offered time and time again. They made for a very cheap and effective security measure. Just like the haphazard positioning of items in the Shacks display area was the same defence mechanism even if he always lied when asked and made out that he hoped tourists would break things so he could charge them extra.

“Stan, what is it?”

Stan frowned, turning back marginally to the sofa where the pair had fallen asleep watching a movie earlier in the evening. If the situation didn’t seem so dire he might have bitterly laughed at how unfair it was for a great night in with his brother was ending so terribly. Instead he kept his grip on the bat tight and ears peeled for anything as he eyed his brother who only just seemed to be coming to the conclusion that there might be a threat. The sleep was vanishing from his face to be replaced by barely contained suspicion, becoming more alert by the second as Stan continued to stay quiet, perched precariously on the edge. Stan’s eyebrows furrowed as Ford stood up, slinking over to him quietly, movements crouched and low until he got to him, pressing up against the wall beside him.

“What’s going on? What did you hear? Is someone in the house?”

“ _What_?” The bat in Stan’s hands trembled as Ford continued to look at him, a mix of utter perplexity at his tone mixing in with all the vigilance of the situation at hand sending Stan’s mind into a tailspin. He took a shuddering breath, glancing back at the doorway before looking at Ford again, eyes hard and pinning him there as he hissed through his teeth, his mouth barely moving. “What did _I_ hear? Ford, _you_ woke _me_ up.”

“Wait, what?” Ford stood up straight, his attention on the room and what might lay beyond the circle of light snapping back to focus in on Stan, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes flitted across Stan’s expression, pulling away from the wall to get a better look at him. He ran everything over in his head with little comprehension, trying his best to solve the issue at hand. He hadn’t had a nightmare set him on edge that might have signalled Stan’s alarm without his knowledge. He hadn’t even been asleep, not really, hovering on the edge in a comfortable daze. He definitely hadn’t heard anything unfamiliar in the house or gone to wake Stan up. In fact it had been his brother’s presence disappearing from beside him that had pulled him out of his peaceful stupor in the first place! He let his gaze trail over his brother, a pang of concern striking him at the tremor still shuddering softly through him, at his blown pupils and tightly locked jaw. Ford gulped, his mouth dry at the implications. Something drastic had transpired, that much was obvious and now his mind was deserting him at the complete role-reversal in their relationship. He’d never imagined Stan would ever need _him_ as an anchor. “Stan, I don’t know what’s happened but I promise you I didn’t hear or see anything or intentionally try to wake you up.” He winced as Stan gave a disbelieving little squeak. “Honest, you’ve completely lost me. I’m not used to that.” He tried to joke, his mouth tweaking when Stan snorted at him even if his grip didn’t loosen around the bat.

“You suddenly grabbed me.” Stan managed to choke out, still pressed up against the wall. His breathing became marginally better at his brother’s comforting presence. His body was still pumped full of adrenaline, however, leaving him tense and coiled, needing further explanation to truly settle the nerves.

“I grab- _oh_.” Ford’s mouth opened and closed a few times as things slowly clicked into place, the question dying on his lips. He couldn’t help but cringe in sympathy as he realised what he’d done in his half-sleep. How he’d been curled up, warm and snug on the sofa and felt movement beside him. How he’d heard a soft grumbling noise that had made him reach out to help instinctively through the haze. “Stan, you were falling off the sofa, I just didn’t want you to slide too far.”

Silence met his words.

“Stan?” Ford bit his lips, not able to tell what was going through his head at all as he stared back at him, slack-jawed and unimpressed with his excuse. “Seriously, I just thought I’d grab you and pull you back, I didn’t mean to suddenly jostle you, sorry if it freaked you out." He waited a few more beats before the penny dropped, his insides dropping to his feet. “You weren’t…you weren’t falling, were you?”

“No. No, I was most probably just moving.” Stan stuttered out, agitation colouring his words as his mind opened up to the possibility that this might all be some terrible misunderstanding. He highly doubted it. He was never that lucky. “Sixer, you’re joking, right? You’re lying to-” He stopped his words, eyes narrowing at Ford’s genuine expression. Could he lie that well? The bat dropped from its position at his shoulder to rest against his leg, his hands still locked around the hilt just in case. “Did you have a nightmare? ‘Cause I’d rather you told me now, nothing to be ashamed of.” He whined pitifully at Ford’s quick head shake, desperate to latch onto anything at all. “You really didn’t hear anything?”

“Stan, if I had heard something I would be doing exactly what you’re doing and checking over the house. Why would I lie about that?” Ford slowly reached out towards him, hoping to rest one hand on his shoulder, a reassuring weight whilst the other slowly took the bat from his hands.

Stan wasn’t having any of it though, shrinking back from the touch as if it would burn him.

Ford bodily jumped back, eyes wide in shock with a hint of hurt that he tried to crush. He tried to school his expression as Stan looked up at him, the guilt evident at his own movements. He hadn’t consciously meant to reject him but he needed the space Ford realised, moving a slow step back to show that he understood, even if it stabbed straight through his chest that he wasn’t allowed to comfort.

“Y- _you put a hand over my mouth_ , Ford.” The words came out in a torrent of fear that he had little chance of hiding, fists clenching and unclenching around the bat as his body and mind warred over the possibility of danger. “You- I thought you needed me to stay quiet and still.”

“I didn’t mean…” Ford cast his mind back, trying to push passed the sleep warmed actions he thought he’d done and see them for what they really were. The pressing need to help buzzed through every fibre of his being, wanting to soothe the obvious distress his brother was under. It was setting him on edge, the thought that Stan was terrified and he _couldn’t do anything_. Stan was the strong one, he always had been. He could get himself out of anything. He didn’t know how to react to this contrasting image. “You didn’t do a very good job of that, did you?” The words came out before he could stop them, another light-hearted joking attempt, something to dull the ice cold tension hanging taut around them. _Dissipate the atmosphere, bring him back._  

Stan wasn’t impressed this time.

God, he was dreadful at this.

“Sorry, sorry, just trying to-” Ford rubbed at the back of his neck, guilt and disgust pooling heavy in his chest. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been, was the point. Just wanted to help and thought if Stan had appreciated his earlier attempt at light-heartedness, he’d appreciate more of the same now.

“I-I couldn’t.” Stan spat out, forcing the words out before Ford could continue talking himself into a hole. “I can’t just sit and _wait_. Just made me think of when-” _Alone. Trapped. Him. Them. Back then._ He strangled the words himself, knocking his head lightly against the wall behind him to stop the memories before they had a chance to surface again.

“Hey, hey, don’t.” Ford didn’t let himself think this time as he moved forward, slipping a hand between Stan’s head and the wall to stop him repeating the motion. The question was on the tip of his tongue but he quelled the urge. He focussed instead on making soothing motions through his hair, his voice a soft apologetic hum. “I’m sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I swear, I thought you were slipping. I don’t know what actually happened but I went to grab your shoulders and tug you back up.” He struggled through the blur of sleep, continuing the soothing hand motions as he felt Stan push back against it, letting it ground him. “I- you made a noise. I thought I shushed you and told you to go back to sleep.”

Stan laughed, a hollow sound that elicited a pained noise from his brother. A tight arm wrapped around his torso before freezing there as if Ford had moved sub-consciously and was now panicking that Stan would tear away from him like before. Stan wasn’t sure himself why it was OK this time, how his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest at the hug pinning him to the wall. But it felt oddly safe and warm in contrast to the stifling presence of memory. A welcoming shield against the world. He tilted his head, leaning it against Ford’s that was resting on his shoulder, hoping to convey the gratitude behind it without voicing it or having to remove his white-knuckled grip from the weapon still held steadfast between them. “You, uh, you did shush me. But not- not the good kind of shushing.”

“I’m sorry. I was half-asleep, I really thought I did.”

Stan sighed, a small amount of tension leaking out of him. “That’s OK, don’t worry.” He cursed under his breath as another shake went through him, his body still ignoring what his mind now knew was a simple act of miscommunication. He closed his eyes, his head trying to drop back again, a short sharp shock to control his body but Ford’s persistent hand kept him from doing so. He grumbled, opening one eye as Ford pulled away slightly, just enough so they could look at each other.

“Should we sit back down?”

Stan shook his head before Ford had even finished the question, pulling himself out of his arms. He knew what he had to do to calm himself down but he could already feel the shame bubbling up through at having to admit it. He had a routine, it served him well, but sharing it with someone else, for someone else to judge was another matter. “I know now but I still…I still need to check the house over. It’s stupid, I know but I won’t sleep unless I-”

“OK.” Ford cut off the ramble, knowing that worry of judgement gleaming in his eyes like the back of his hand. It was the same way he felt once the adrenaline had stopped pumping, once the mist cleared and everything was laid bare. “OK, do you want me to come with you or wait here?” He tried not to show any emotion as Stan stared at him, surprised he had even offered, the relief in his eyes almost painful.

“Come with me?”

Ford nodded, taking the question for what it actually was; a hopeful request. He pulled the gun from its holster, ever at his side, and gestured for Stan to lead the way. His heart soared when Stan glanced between him and the gun and nodded appreciatively. “I got your back, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stan let the air leave him in a low steady sigh of respite before he took a deep breath in and ventured out into the darkness. He followed age old habits, keep to the wall, find the light, scope the area. The ever present sense of his brother at his back was a welcoming addition to the familiar motions. It helped that he was taking him seriously, no mock to his movements or nonchalance to make his actions seem unnecessary.

Ford followed slowly, treating each room as he would have done the other side of the portal. He may know it was a safe place but it never did hurt to be vigilant, just in case. Being caught off guard was worse than staying on high alert. It was intriguing to him to see the differences in Stan’s take on surveillance, however. His own thought process to stay to the shadows, to stay out of sight in stark contrast to Stan’s initial reflex at every available opportunity to bathe the rooms in light.

In his musings Ford almost missed the sudden hunch of his brother’s shoulders. His eyes caught the action though, zoning back in as Stan rolled his shoulders, an assured sign he was steeling himself up for something. It was then that Ford saw the vending machine, the cogs in his mind whirring to the right conclusion. Of course the basement was a definite place to check for an intruder, but he was hard pressed to let Stan go down there in the daylight let alone with the darkness clinging to his back. He put a hand on his shoulder, nudging him softly and slowly out of the way even when he complained quietly.

“Sixer, I need to check down there.”

“No, you don’t. There’s a kind of deadbolt.” Ford whispered back to him, slipping the code into the vending machine. “You just need to check the stairs. There’s a mechanism that locks the elevator up. Anything down there would be stuck down there until we opened it up again. So let’s check in the morning?” The last part was a question, not sure if Stan’s routine would let him. He smiled when Stan nodded, his shoulders relaxing from their defensive position. He waited for Stan to flick the light and peek down the stairs, nodding again in satisfaction before watching in awe as Ford slipped to the ground to point out and press a small switch almost invisible in the skirting board. A loud grating clunk echoed back at them from deep underground and suddenly Stan wasn’t beside him anymore. “ _Stan_.” Ford hissed, glancing behind him and back to where his brother was slipping down the steps. He watched with trepidation as his brother pressed the button for the elevator a few times, relinquishing his hold on the bat only to try and pry the doors loose. When he was unsuccessful he nodded again and grabbed his bat back up, content with his findings as he walked back up the stairs.

“I wish I’d known that years ago.”

Ford felt his stomach rebel at the images the thoughtful musing from his brother’s mouth dredged up. The thought of him suffering through a nightmare alone, of going through these same motions time and time again in a completely empty house. The counter-productive nature of having to check the basement and elevator for an intruder to ease his doubts, whilst the small enclosed spaces added to the suffocating pressure on his chest.

Why on earth hadn’t he left something in his journal about the security measures?

 He gulped, following his brother on instinct as he traversed the other rooms. He shook his head, making sure to stay alert for him instead of wallowing in a dose of retrospective self-loathing. The rest of the house went without a hitch. Each room they came across he stood resolutely at the door, eyes scanning the corridor as Stan checked inside the room, eyes glancing to the doorway every so often as if used to having to keep his vision split. It took a while for this to wear off, for him to trust enough that Ford would be at the door whatever happened.

It continued until they’d searched the whole house. Light on, light off, on to the next, a steady and confident routine that spoke volumes about the amount of times the walk was etched into his memory, into the very floor of the house.

And all the while Ford was wishing to scrub the place of the memory, wishing he had been there to help.

Wishing he had stopped whatever had happened to cause all of this before it had even happened.

It felt like an age before Stan was turning the hallway light off and they were back in the living room, slowly sinking into the sofa, but it was worth it to see that Stan’s breathing was regular, his eyes no longer blown and darting every which way. Ford would have checked every room multiple times, checked the garden and the surrounding woods if it would ease that steady thrum of panic that had been pulsing off of him since he’d woken up.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Fords words were hushed, unsure and doubtful. It was with a heavy heart that he finally appreciated that maybe, just maybe, Stan’s caring and seemingly well-versed comments and actions since he had come home were not, as he had previously thought, due to him being natural good at knowing how to reassure him and were instead down to experiences he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“Do you? Want to talk about things on the other side of the portal that is.”

Ford blanched at the idea, the sharp defensive edge to Stan’s words biting into him as he shifted away unintentionally in his haste to get away from the question. He jumped slightly as a hand snapped out and snagged his, pulling him closer again. He glanced up, seeing a sad and understanding smile on his twin’s face that he couldn’t help but mimic in return, heart slowing as he was reassured that no, they didn’t have to go there.

“Exactly. Let’s…let’s just put on another movie and try to relax, OK?” Stan’s smile faltered. “U-unless you want to go to sleep, and that’s fine by the way! I’m just going to…stay up for a bit longer.”

Ford didn’t feel the need to make him explain, knowing the feeling all too well. When the threat was gone but a part of him still felt uneasy, unsure that everything really was over. When staying in the circle of light the campfire gave him would at least let him feel some peace against the dark world outside as he sat alone and vigilant for dawn to come.

He wasn’t going to leave Stan alone through that, not when he didn’t have to be. Not when he had made sure Ford always had someone beside him even when he had tried to deny he needed the help.

 “A movie sounds great.” Ford pushed passed the need for knowledge, pushed passed the swirling theories his mind was trying to piece together. This wasn’t about him, this was about helping Stan and right now he had to be here supporting him, not in his own head. That could wait for another time. “You never know, you might fall asleep in the middle of it.” He stood back up to turn the light off, just as they’d had it earlier when they’d settled down and joked about being at a cinema. A small apprehensive tug at his sleeve made him falter. He looked down, smiling brightly. “I’m not going anywhere, I just thought I’d- _Oh_.” He closed his eyes for a second before opening one, his face apologetic as he realised his mistake and that Stan had known exactly what he was going to do.

“Yeah…c-can we leave it on?” Stan’s voice was low, guilt and shame bubbling through at what he deemed a childish request. “Seriously, just go get some sleep, I can look after myself, it’s just me being stupid.” He closed his eyes, his hand dropping from Ford’s sleeve to run across his face. “God, I’m being such a _child_ -”

“Stop that.” Ford cut in, pulling his hand away so that they could see each other. “It’s OK. I understand, you’re not-” He bit his lips, mind whirring until it came to rest on words he remembered Stan say to him. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, I don’t blame you after I scared you like that.” He sat back down, reaching an arm around his brother’s back, guilt pressing at him even as Stan continued to shake his head, disagreeing with the sentiment. “I’m not judging you, I’m glad you didn’t hide it and let me put you in an uncomfortable position.” He could almost hear Stan in his head, his tone mimicking it as far as he was able to. He hoped with every fibre of his being that he was correct and that when Stan had helped him through his problems he had been expressing what he would have wanted to hear himself.

A relieved sigh slipped out of him as Stan finally relaxed into his hug, his head flopping against his shoulder. All the tension seemed to leech out of him, leaving him utterly drained as they sat there for a few moments, Ford’s hand ran up and down his arm comfortingly. He quietly turned the TV on, glad for the steady quiet thrum of conversation that permeated the air around them when he found a late night movie that neither of them really cared for.

He tried not to let his eyes droop, keeping up the steady movement of his hand in the hopes that Stan would fall asleep. He definitely wasn’t going to fall asleep first, if at all that night, happy to keep watch until morning if it would help. He kept glancing down every so often, ever hopeful but although Stan’s breathing was steady, his eyes were resolutely open, the TV screen reflected in his gaze. It was on one of these occasions that Stan glanced up and saw him watching. He gave a quick smile, giving his shoulder a squeeze before returning his gaze to the movie. He felt Stan move, shifting closer into his grip, his face pressing against his shoulder.

He almost missed him whisper, muffled into his sleeve and low against the background hum of the TV.

“M’sorry, Sixer.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I feel mean that that’s where I end this series. bittersweet comfort. (I’m sure I’ve told a few people recently that I’d get them for the feels they’ve put me through so maybe this counts ^^;) Someone questioned whether Stan would ever volunteer info on what happened to him and my instant response was ‘no, it would only ever come to light accidentally’ so this was born from a mix of a few ideas. I probably wouldn’t ever do a talk between them on what happened in the past, for some reason in this au I see them focusing more on helping one another through it than actually having to know. 
> 
> Adding this to every post now: I’m not looking at my dash and if anyone messages me please do not say anything about trailers/promos that have come out, I’m not watching them, I just want to watch the last ep without spoilers x (I also won’t be able to watch it until Tuesday/Wednesday so I really will not be attempting tumblr once the ep has come out)


	6. Set Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m sorry I really tried to get this out last night. But then it got to 1am and I just wasn’t happy with it. So I’ve been sneakily editting while working this morning *whistles* I hope this is alright ♥ Annoyingly I needed to get this one out which has now messed with the one shots being chronological - the next one will flick back to being the aftermath of oneshot 5… (Warning: PTSD/Panic attacks, triggered flashbacks)

“ _Sixer_?”

A familiar voice nagged at him, trying to lure away his concentration. It was muffled though, garbled by the distortion in his ears. The loud static hum that pulsed with every beat of his heart. It sounded so right but so _wrong_ all at the same time, off by just enough to pique his interest and heighten his suspicions.

It just didn’t fit with his surroundings.

“Everything’s alright, OK?”

He should never be able to hear that voice here.

Ford frowned deeply, trying his best to ignore the voice’s persistent coaxing as alarm bells rang stark and clear in his head. But he could feel them waning against his curiosity, his hands shaking and slipping as he found himself falling into a trap that he was powerless to fight. His head tilted in perplexity, hand’s dropping a fraction as his mind slipped towards the voice as if it held more sway over him than just mere words.

“That’s it, come on.”

A small shift of movement in front of him made his grip tighten again and his back go ramrod straight. His eyes narrowed into vicious slits, a rumble of warning echoing in his chest as he chastised himself as well as the creature for letting his guard down.

It would not do to grow careless. Not now. Not ever. Because there was always something watching him, always something out there in the darkness ready and waiting to-

“ _No_ , c-come on, Sixer, it’s me. It’s-”

Ford gave another dark sound of reproach, the voice cutting off in a small hitch of breath. He grinned at the small, hollow victory, glad to have caught whatever it was off-guard.

He had more pressing matters than a disembodied voice. He’d grown used to ignoring them over the years. This was just another trick to make him weak, to make him inattentive and slip up.

“Sixer, _listen_ to me.”

A hand connected with his shoulder, a pure bolt of electricity running from the touch all the way down to his feet at the action. He felt his heart leap into his throat, a soft strangled wheeze all that made it passed his now constricted throat. _There were two of them._ A tremor ran through him at the thought, eyes still trained on the assailant in front of him as he tried to decide how exactly to deal with the one at his back that was trying so hard to sound like someone he once cared about.

In his momentary lapse, while his mind went into over drive, the hand continued, pressing down insistently on his arm in an attempt to lock him out of his defensive stance. It was this, ultimately, that brought him to his senses, his whole body staying tight and coiled for action as his gaze turned hawkish and analytical. His breath hissed out of him as the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

Whoever was behind him could have attacked him at any point. Instead it saw him as a potential threat to the person still frozen in his line of sight. It knew what he was capable of if he was backed into a corner. So it was trying to trick him, trying to force him away so that it could catch him unaware.

Well that wasn’t going to happen.

“Damn it, Sixer-”

In a blink of an eye, he felt hands fastening tight and unyielding on his upper arms, his trail of thought escaping him as his aim was knocked off course even as he desperately fought the assailant that he had expected to keep their distance.

A loud crack echoed through the otherwise silent air.

There was a heavy impenetrable hush afterwards, the shot ringing out over and over, vibrating through his very being.

Ford’s eyes narrowed.

He’d missed his mark.

There were still hands keeping him from attacking properly, however, ones that now seemed hell bent on turning him round to face them.

If this assailant wanted to fight him first then so be it, he wasn’t picky.

He grit his teeth, a grimace of a grin on his face as the new plan formed. He spun, following the hands movements, catching the attacker off guard and making them stumble backwards as he actively joined in the efforts to turn. His hands flitted through well practised motions, re-arming his weapon for another attack even as he wrenched himself free from the manhandling that had caused the misfire to begin with. His eyes swept around, ready to find a weak spot and strike in the blink of an eye-

And was instead met with a very familiar face staring back at him in concern.

 

* * *

 

One sound.

One sound was all it took for Stan’s world to turn upside down again.

It should have been just a normal day. He had _planned_ it that way, he had double and triple checked that it would be that way, just in case. They’d made it through the morning without a hitch, Ford had even spent it in the gift shop chatting to Wendy about his latest project or something or other. Sure, there seemed to be a slight concern in how he watched Stan’s shifty movements but all in all it was the most relaxed Stan had seen his brother in a long time, especially surrounded by unknown milling tourists.

And so Stan had found himself growing slowly optimistic instead of constantly on edge and tightly wound, ready for the other shoe to drop. It had been weeks since either of them had had a really bad panic attack, weeks since Stan had started to see a marked change in Ford adapting back to this dimension. The twins had helped with that, with those scrapbooks of theirs. Full of little details, noticing things they’d thought they’d desperately hidden away from them. And slowly they’d started to piece everything back together, accepting each other’s tendencies without judgement or prying questions. Sure they didn’t talk about things still, not really, but between them they were coping, figuring out the quickest and most effective ways to settle the other’s fraying nerves and bring them back to the present.

And so with that in mind, he’d planned for this day accordingly.

He’d thought his plan was fool proof.

Now in hindsight, he was pretty sure that it had had the completely opposite response.

With his trademark grin, Stan waved the latest batch of tourists out of the shop, turning back with a mock suspicious gaze at Wendy’s friends still drifting aimlessly around his goods as if they had nothing better to do with their days than distract her at work.

He glanced over at her, rolling his eyes when he realised it wasn’t them but Ford that was still taking up her attention, her arms full of the merchandise she was supposed to be shelving.

“Oi, don’t think I’m still going to pay you just for pretending you have an interest in Ford’s nerd talk.”

“Hey, I’m not pretendi-”

Stan waved her words off, the smile on his face in contrast to his dismissive motions. The quick glance at his brother’s flustered face was all it took to get him close to chuckling no matter how hard he tried to stop it. He dropped the gaze swiftly, letting them get back to the conversation without any more argument, glad that his brother had a willing audience even if he would never ever admit it out loud. He glanced at his watch as he went back to work himself, judging how much time he had before the next coach load arrived. He hummed happily at the few extra minutes he’d gleaned from the quick tour he’d just completed, his eyes flitted back and forth as he took a quick glancing inventory of the shop, wanting to make sure he had everything he needed for the afternoon lot.

He’d only turned his back for a second.

Everything seemed to slow to a crawl after that.

As he was turning back to check on Wendy’s work, he caught her look of horror off over his shoulder, her mouth open, arm raising slowly as the bundled shirts fell to the floor. His eyes widened at her movements, ice dripping down his spine. He’d never seen her look so worried but he couldn’t seem to make himself move fast enough.

Ford hadn’t even noticed. He was still chattering away beside her, his audience caught by something that neither of them could see.

“Guys, don’t-”

A loud crack tore through the air, crumbling the pleasant atmosphere with it.

Stan felt the breath leave his lungs in a shuddering gush, pain blossoming in his side as the sound seemed to reverberate through his head. He stumbled forward, head bent as he caught hold of the wall in front of him, trying to steady himself as he took a moment to assess the damage. He gulped, hand pressing down hard at the point of pain, grasping at his shirt to pull it up and check the-

He frowned, focus snapping back to the present as the buttons of his suit got in the way of his clawing hands, not prepared for layers of clothing to be present. The pain ebbed, more phantom than real as he took in the flashback for what it was; a painful memory. He groaned, head thumping against the wall as he realised what had happened. That the teenagers had had some fun and tried to scare him. Probably hadn’t expected that kind of response though. He found himself wondering with a twisted humour how much he’d scared them back in return. _They should be thankful it was me, not Fo-_

Ford.

“Shi-” Stan spun, still half caught up in his own rush of adrenaline that made his hands weak and shaky. His words caught on his tongue, his mind going into overdrive as his heart fell.

All it had taken was one sound for all their work to be torn down again.

“ _Sixer_.”

He took small hesitant steps, glad when the other twitched at his voice. A small quiet noise of protest came from across the room but Stan put a stop to it quickly, his eyes serious but his face reassuring as he held a finger to his lips. He knew he should be angry, knew that if they’d just _listened_ then none of this would be happening. But he couldn’t find it in him, they’d only been having a laugh as idiotic as it was.

It was his fault really, not theirs.

“Everything’s alright, OK?”

He just had to make sure everyone got out of this situation in one piece.

“That’s it, come on.”

He kept up the small comforting words, focusing them on his brother but speaking for the room at large. His heart gave another loud thump, glad to see Ford’s head tilting towards him as he spoke, even if his eyes were still trained on the person closest to him, his gun poised ready to shoot at the smallest warning sign.

He brought a hand down on his brother’s shoulder, trying to squeeze comfortingly and winced at the solid stone of muscle that met him with resistance. He focused his attention on the gun instead, trying to bring his brother’s aim down and away from anyone else but Ford was having none of it. He grit his teeth, worry and adrenaline mixing in equal measures as he noticed one of the kids trying to move at the same time as Ford did. Quick as a flash he did the only thing he could think of, yanking Ford’s entire body around in the hopes that the jolt would draw him out of whatever memory held him in its sway.

Another louder crack reverberated through his core.

Time stood still as he inhaled, eyes following the guns line of sight as the blood pounded through his ears and left him feeling faint and dizzy.

He almost fell over with relief, his exhale a light sob as he found only charred floor in the guns wake.

His gaze hardened, his efforts doubling as he turned his brother towards him. He felt his grip slip, his eyes widening as Ford rolled with him instead of against him like he’d expected. The momentum gave Ford the advantage as Stan stumbled back, keeping his eyes trained on Ford’s instead of the gun that he knew was now perilously close to him and making his stomach muscles quiver with the instinct to shy away from it.

The phantom pain danced across his side again, but he ignored it in favour of the wide eyes staring back into his own. He gulped once, licking his lips as his tongue fell heavy and useless in his mouth. “S-Sixer?”

“Stan?”

Stan breathed deep, the word a welcome respite. “Yeah, it’s me, bud. Just me.”

“But you shouldn’t _be_ here.”

Stan frowned, shifting to rest his hands back on Ford’s shoulders. He kept his gaze firmly locked with his as he went to turn again and inspect his surroundings. His heart thumped painfully as Ford’s hands moved with him, the gun sweeping past his abdomen in a low arc. A small breath escaped him which his brother noticed with dawning realisation, fumbling the gun away from him without question. It spurs him on, the small movement a step in the right direction. “Sixer, listen to me. We’re in the Shack. You’re not- you’re not _there_ , OK? You’re here with me. You’re safe.”

Ford stared uncomprehendingly back at him, his gaze sluggish and blinking as Stan waited patiently. His fingers drummed a pattern on his shoulder blades, making sure his breaths were deep and even for Ford to follow the motion with him.

And then the world fell again.

Stan winced as he saw everything snap into place behind Ford’s eyes. They grew impossibly larger, his shoulders shaking under Stan’s fingers as the gun fell from his fingers.

“Oh God. What did I-” His voice cut of, strangled by a new flush of panic and shame.

“Sixer, wait-”

It was too late though. Ford tore himself from Stan’s grip, darting back into the house without a backwards glance.

 

* * *

 

Ford didn’t know where exactly he was running to.

He stopped in the hallway, running a hand over his mouth as he checked that he was completely out of sight. When he found that he was safe, he stumbled forwards, dropping himself down gracelessly to the stairs in a heap. He tugged at his hair, wishing he’d thought things through properly and gone through the vending machine door instead of taking the first available exit and bolting.

Sure then all those people would have known about the entrance to the lab but he would have been safe down there. It was dark and cool and since the portal had been dismantled it had slowly become his haven again.

Now he had to think up somewhere else to hide himself, just while he came to terms with whatever had happened just now. Somewhere quiet where no one could find him, a small semblance of solitude while he wrapped his head around it all.

He cursed, his hands tightening in his hair as another tremor rolled through him, a nauseous shame bubbling up with it. It all seemed so stupid now, so obvious now that his brain was starting to rationalise everything but for a while he had been _there_. He couldn’t even remember which dimension it was that had flooded through his very being but it was definitely not this one. Some of his experiences melded fuzzily together, similar enough situations that traversed dimensional borders yet somehow were still foreign enough for his brain to push his home dimension from his recollections and force his mind back into the past.

And if Stan hadn’t pulled him back…

His shuddering continued, his thoughts turning darker and spiralling with every second. A small whimper escaped him.

All their hard work.

All his coping mechanisms.

They felt like nothing when thrown up against this set back.

It felt like he’d made no progress in adapting at all since he’d come through the portal months ago. Constantly vigilant, constantly ready for the next creature to strike.

A set of loud footsteps coming towards him made their way through his clouded thoughts, grounding him before his thoughts could dig their claws into him any further. He winced, not looking up, the berating shouts of his mind turning to insidious whispers as he waited for the other to speak. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. He’d grown used to listening out for those same heavy footfalls, grown used to knowing that they weren’t a threat against the other pitter-patters that dredged the halls day in and day out.

It was only because of that, that he fought the overwhelming urge to run still coursing through him, latching instead on to the swirling guilt and reprimands that said he needed to face the consequences. Needed to face Stan. He’d find him anyway if he did hide, Stan seemed to have a homing signal when it came to him.

He ignored the other small voice in his head, tiny and high pitch that tried to call off his scolding, lashing thoughts. The one trying to remind him that he had no control over what had just happened and that Stan would understand that.

“Stan-”

“Ford, I am so sorry. This is all my fault.”

Ford’s head shot up at the genuine and guilt filled words, his brother’s voice a warbling tone that didn’t suit the gruffness. He had known deep down that Stan would come to comfort him and not blame him like his brain had been playing out for him but for him to take responsibility- Ford shook his head, hand outstretched to reassure, to take the blame back as his brother stood before him so guilt stricken by this turn of events. “ _No_ , God no. _Lee_ , this isn’t-”

“It is.” Stan nudged him with his foot, forcing him over just enough to sit next to him, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. Ford found himself relaxing marginally, taking comfort from his brother’s presence between him and the world. He ran a hand through his hair again, looking downwards as he waited for Stan to continue, knowing arguing the point would get him nowhere. They’d tried that, more than once, when Ford had been unwilling to let Stan help him and Stan had at the same time been too foolhardy to realise it was best to stop pushing.

Suffice to say, it had taken intervention for them to realise that it was getting them nowhere.

So for now he’d stay quiet, let Stan get what he needed to off his chest. He didn’t want an argument. He didn’t have it in him, exhausted by his own tempestuous thoughts and vigilant muscle memory.

That and he was curious now.

He needed to know what Stan’s conclusions were to be able to utterly refute them.

“So-” Stan choked on his words. Ford felt himself lean against him without thought, unable to discern whether the choke was a laugh or a sob. “I thought-I thought I made a really sensible move for once, you know? Make my intentions clear, not beat around the bush…” He rambled, shaking his head as his words trailed off, contrasting the sentiments. “Unlike now. Right, sorry. There’s a- I put a sign on the door leading into the Shack that says we don’t tolerate any of today’s antics here. Clear and to the point, you know?”

Ford frowned, propping himself up to stare at Stan who refused to look at him no matter how much Ford tried to force it. “Today’s…?”

“It’s April Fool’s Day, Ford. I was worried that something might…happen. So I took precautions?”

Ford’s eyes widened at the questioning hesitant tone, the news coming as a complete shock. He’d forgotten about that. It wasn’t a regular similarity in many other dimensions, for some reason the festivities were an oddity contained in only a few. “It’s- _oh,_ _that’s_ why you’ve been acting weird all morning.”

“Wasn’t much use, was it?” Stan groaned, his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. “I should have just told you. Or reminded you, but I didn’t want you all jittery as well. One of us high strung is bad enough.”

Ford could feel himself unwinding further with the knowledge, his thoughts now roaming back to the kids in the other room and the now more reasonable possibilities for the crack of gunfire that had triggered the flashback.

The tables turned as Ford groaned, Stan’s head shooting up only to find his brother too engrossed in his own thoughts to look back at him.

“You get it now? I’m so sorry-”

A bubble of hysterical laughter left Ford, silencing Stan in a panicked heartbeat.

Ford flopped back against the stairs, one hand over his eyes as he continued to laugh, a nonsensical sound that he could feel was making his brother twitch in worry. “Really, Stan? Your idea was to put up a sign that said ‘We don’t tolerate April Fools’?”

“Yes-”

“ _Lee_. We were teenagers once, I can remember one or two times we got ourselves in trouble pranking people we shouldn’t because we were told specifically _not_ to.”

“…Heh, yeah. What is it with kids and doing things they’re told not to?”

“Who knows? But every kid does it at some point.”

“Part of growing up, I guess.”

They both fell silent. Ford closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as the tension finally left his muscles. His mind trailed back over the scene again, still torturing himself for his lapse even if he knew Stan would scold him for the notion. His thoughts led his eyes to his brother, how he had approached the panic attack, how he had gone about pulling him back into the present.

Ford’s heart lurched, remembering hands turning him, remembered his instincts at the time, his body going into autopilot to escape the danger. How he’d bristled, how he’d fallen into old habits. Strike first and ask questions later.

He sat up straight, Stan jumping at the motion beside him. Before he could question him though, Ford’s hand was over his mouth, his eyes filling with horror as he stared at his brother.

“Oh m- _Stan_ , I could have _shot_ you.”

Stan blinked at him for a second before his gaze hardened. He turned to him, eyes determined, his mouth a thin line that broached no argument. “But you didn’t.”

“But-”

“ _But_ you _didn’t_.” Stan shook his head, gently tugging Ford’s hand away from his mouth before running his thumb over the back of it in soothing circles. “Don’t think about the ‘what ifs’. They didn’t happen.”

Ford shook his head, trying to tug his hand out of Stan’s grip, the touch felt burning, wrong. He shouldn’t be comforting him, not after that. But Stan wouldn’t let go. His teeth grit together painfully, a low noise in his throat as he tried to forcibly remove himself and Stan sat stubbornly offering comfort as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to give him. “How can you-I could have hurt you. Or those kids. God, what if I’d-”

“Sixer, stop. Just stop.”

“Uhh, Mr Pines?”

Before either of them could continue the argument, a small hesitant voice cut through their steadily growing voices.

Ford flinched, the fight leaving him as he pulled back away from the now multiple people he could feel watching them. His mind was screaming again, a new tangent beating a pulse against the back of his head that he had somehow missed 5 teenagers creeping up on him.

Stan sighed, closing his eyes for a second as he tried to compose himself, a hand going up under his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. “I thought I told you all to go home.”

“Yeah, b-but…”

Ford winced, pulling his hands away from Stan who let him go with only a small huff of protest. He turned to the teenagers now standing in their hall, all of them looking varying degrees of nervous and fearful as they shuffled before them. The notion sent another lurching pang of guilt deep within him at the sight. How could he ever hope to fix _this_? “No, Stan, I need-” He took a breath, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible to the teens, hunched over and small, hands clasped tight in front of him. “I am so sorry. You all should never have been put in that situation. I can’t apologise enough for my behaviour.”

“No, sir, it’s –uhh, Wendy’s filled us in. We shouldn’t have- it was just meant to be a joke but- we never meant to…that is…”

Ford blinked at the boy, stumbling guiltily over his words, his mind short-circuiting with him. He felt Stan shift beside him, his body language more stern and suspicious than his own unintimidating form that felt very lost with this turn of events.

For some reason he’d expected a lot more yelling.

“She’s filled you in, huh?”

Ford blinked at that, following Stan’s demanding gaze to Wendy who stared just as resolutely back. A pang of sadness went through him at her gaze. He’d found recently that he really got along with Stan’s shop assistant. She had quite the adventurer’s spirit. From what he’d heard, she’d even been down to the bunker with the younger twins and helped keep them out of trouble which is what had led him to strike up a conversation with her in the first place.

He was sure he’d ruined all that now though, her eyes locked with Stan’s were stern and commanding just like him. If it wasn’t for the fact that he found himself pulling back at the harsh stare, he might have found it amusing that she’d picked up some of his brother’s traits since working for him.

“Yeah, I did. I know you two don’t like talking about it but Ford’s a war veteran, isn’t he?”

Ford and Stan gave identical owlish blinks of confusion, side eyeing one another for just a second.

It would seem they both took a different approach to the quick lies the teen had spouted, however.

Ford frowned, sitting up straight. “I’m not a-”

His words were cut off by a quick nudge to the shoulder. He glanced over at his brother, annoyed at the interruption but Stan was ignoring him, pretending he hadn’t done anything.

Before he could try again, Wendy took over, taking heart in the nod Stan gave her. “See guys, I told you he’d deny it. He doesn’t want people asking questions or reminding him but it’s obvious, isn’t it? Anyway, what do you all need to do?”

Ford could feel Stan straining not to laugh as Wendy crossed her arms, her glare turning back to her friends.

“Sorry Mr Pines.” The chorus went up like a well-rehearsed play. One that Ford still had trouble comprehending even with only one line of dialogue.

“It’s not- I mean-” Ford felt his tongue tie itself in knots. Why was no one blaming him? He felt a hand twist back into his, pulling his hands apart where he’d been slowly crushing the life out of them. He glanced down to find the small comfort as Stan squeezed his hand before he gave another breath out. He’d go along with this for now, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t going to have more words about this later. He couldn’t just leave it hanging over them like this even if Stan seemed to think this was enough. “That’s OK, I’m still sorry for…I can’t apologise enough for my reaction.”

“Don’t worry, we got your back.”

“Yeah, we’ll make sure no one pulls pranks here ever, we’ve got you both!”

“Both?” Ford felt Stan freeze beside him, his hand tightening further around his. But when he turned to him it was as if nothing had happened, his smile still in place for the kids.

Ford frowned, noting the tick to Stan’s smile that was barely there but something about it unnerved him.

Maybe their conversation later would take a different tangent as well.

“Well, if you want to make it up to me…”

“Stan, you’ve already got me working here. I won’t get any work done if you hire this lot as well.”

“Oh god no then. All of you get out. You’re not allowed up here for a month- a week- I don’t want to see you around here for a while distracting my staff, you hear?” He waited for the nods he got in response before shooing at them. “Well? Get going then!”

He paused for a moment, waiting for the cacophony of noise to leave as the kids took their leave, the relief ebbing off them in waves. “Not you, Wendy.”

“Aww, man, I’m not gonna get told off for telling a secret, am I? I know it wasn’t mine to tell.”

“Yeah, well, we still need to talk about it.”

Ford couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him with the exchange. He could practically hear one of Stan’s cons through her voice, the sigh of sulking exasperation all teenagers seemed to have echoing through just genuinely enough to make the whole exchange feasible. They all waited for the door to click shut, signalling that the others had left before Stan grinned widely.

“Heh, thanks kid. I’ll make a con-artist of you, yet.”

Ford kicked him, rolling his eyes as Stan laughed brightly in response. “No really, thank you. Though a war veteran? Me?”

“Well, she could hardly tell them the truth without sounding like she was joking, now could she?” Stan huffed, still chuckling as he leant back. “I’m more impressed that you came up with that on the spot, kid. You did good.”

“I’ve got your back.” Wendy smiled at Ford, shrugging as she slipped her hands in her pockets. Her smile slipped as she glanced away. “Sorry for not noticing sooner. Should have realised they were up to something. I should have come up with the lie beforehand and then it’d never have happened.”

“Nah, you weren’t to know.” Stan sighed, shaking his head, before nodding his head out the door. “Go join your friends, kid. I think I’ll shut up early. Had enough excitement for the day.”

“If you say so, boss.” Ford tried not to wince as the girl turned to him, waiting for her to say something at odds to all the excuses she’d been making up for him. He was so sure it was for everyone else’s benefit, not his own. Instead he was yet again surprised as she smiled gently, almost awkwardly. “Is it alright if we continue our conversation tomorrow then? You were getting to the good part of the story.”

“S-sure.”

“Awesome.”

“Oi. I thought I told you I _wasn’t_ paying you to listen to his nerd talk?”

Ford blinked as she walked away laughing and waving behind her, wondering if he hadn’t messed everything up after all.

 

* * *

 

The brother’s fell into a companionable silence again as she vanished. Neither of them knew how long they sat there, just soaking in the quiet hush, the aftermath of the storm. It was a hard thing to right the world after a set back and Stan was trying his best to think up something to stop the pressure from building up again between them. To stop Ford’s thoughts spiralling again like he expected them to.

He knew they would. Knew they’d have to talk about it later before Ford tried closing himself off again, thinking that he was a danger to everyone.

His stomach gave a bubbling lurch, his own heart still beating a small jig to the firecrackers sound. A small itch to check that the Shack was secure and that no enemy had gotten in.

He also knew that Ford had noticed the kid’s slip up.

He bit his lip, eyes ghosting over the ceiling. As much as he hated it, maybe the best way to keep Ford from plummeting into his own thoughts was to tell him his own secret, put it out in the open where both of them could see it. Maybe that way Ford would talk to him about those 30 years. Maybe it would be an opening for both of them, a chance to let all of the memories out and finally have someone to listen, to share in the knowledge of what exactly it was that made them who they were today.

Now wasn’t that a thought and a half.

He felt Ford shift beside him, lying down and admitting defeat, finally relaxing entirely with a small groan as his back cracked.

Before he could say anything optimistic, his twin piped up.

“Next year, let’s just close the Shack for the _entire_ day and be done with it.”

Stan laughed, the sound vaguely hollow as he nodded and leant back himself. “I won’t argue with that one.” Stan huffed out. He tried to ignore the berating nudge he received for his guilt-ridden tone but the message was clear. If he didn’t want Ford to criticise himself then he really shouldn’t be doing it either. “There is a silver lining though.” He grinned, trying another tactic, eyes sparking with mischief as he spoke.

“Oh?”

“Seems we’ve got an army of teenagers at our disposal now.”

“…That’s surprisingly comforting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I really hope this was OK @.@ I’ve read it so many times now that it’s all just a garbled mess in my head. I just wanted a Wendy/Ford interaction as well but then I made it so fleeting ;.;
> 
> Anyway I really just wanted to write an April Fools fic and I thought this was the best AU to do it in.
> 
> Have a safe April Fools guys ♥


	7. Contented Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commission based on tumblr prompts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: First commission for @the-discordia! I hope you enjoy ♥ Also titled ‘Everything’s Alright’ but the above had a nicer ring to it (and got me to stop humming a song)
> 
> Also I don’t think there are any warnings for this one 8D

“Well, someone seems excited.”

Ford jumped at the voice behind him, spinning round from the view out of the window as if he’d forgotten where he was for just a moment. He smiled sheepishly as Stan grinned back at him, both of them not commenting on his progress to not grab the nearest weapon at being startled.

His smile turned less self-conscious as he thought about the rest of the day, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet eagerly. Stan’s grin grew at the sight. “Of course. They’re meant to be arriving soon, right?”

“Not for another hour, Poindexter.” Stan rolled his eyes, tapping at his watch. He tried to ignore the excitement bubbling up inside himself in favour of teasing his brother about his. “Anyone would think you hadn’t seen them in forever the way you’re acting.”

Ford frowned, slightly put out as his feet hit the floor with a sudden thump that made Stan wince. “Well it has been, what- 3 months?” He bit his lip, glancing back out the window. “But I guess we do speak to them every few days…” His hands started to fidget, anxiety taking over as he settled himself beside the window again. Maybe he should tone it down when they got here but the last few months, though nice now that he and his brother were on speaking terms, had been a struggle. He’d gone from 30 years alone, making companions here and there along the way, to coming home and having a _family_ again. He’d grown fond of them all and then the twins had left at the end of the summer, back home to their parents, where they were meant to be, gone back to school and normal lives.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for them. He was glad they had each other and a loving home. But…

He missed them.

And more than that – he couldn’t _protect_ them when they were so far away.

It ate away at him, that fear did. It sent his hackles rising and his teeth gritting whenever Dipper enthusiastically told him he’d found a new creature right on their doorstep or when Mabel hurriedly had to leave conversations because her sea friends wanted her to visit them.

Who knew what trouble they could get into?

Ford knew.

Ford knew exactly what messing with these kinds of things could do to a person.

And what could he do? Stuck here with Stan if they ever needed him? What could he do if they rang them in a panic? Or _worse_ couldn’t contact them and were both stuck alone and helpless again a creature neither of them could defeat?

Which had led to this moment. Not an hour from now those two kids would be safe in his arms again, would be back in his sight where he could watch like a hawk and make sure nothing bad happened to them.

Only now…now he was worried that they would notice, that they would feel suffocated by him and not want to come back ever again. That all that progress he’d made since returning would look like nothing at all as he slipped into old habits.

“Yeah well, Mabel’s probably going to scream and run at you full pelt when she sees you so…I guess you won’t be the _most_ excitable one.”

Ford jumped again at the hand on his shoulder and let the feeling relax him. He’d gotten so used to Stan’s presence that it was easy to get startled by him. He felt safe here, Stan letting him get on and set up any safety measures he wanted, letting him know when customers would be around to give him time to slip away to his own private spaces. Stan understood what he needed and what he didn’t and made sure his adaptation to this dimension went as smoothly as possible. He’d make sure this week with the kids ran smoothly too. “So...how long now?”

Stan chuckled, the sound warm and soothing as he shook his head. “Still 50 minutes, nerd.” His chuckles turned into full blown laughter as Ford groaned like a petulant child. “This is going to be the longest hour ever isn’t it? Dealing with you bored, that is.”

“Most probably. I don’t know what to do with myself!” Ford leant his head against the window with a long-suffering sigh as if it was Stan’s fault that time wasn’t going fast enough. He grumbled low as Stan cuffed him softly round the head and left him to it.

“Well figure something out! Because I’ll be in for a whole lot of pain if I strangle you before the kids get here.”

 

* * *

 

The anxious apprehension grew and grew as time stretched on and an hour turned into two, then three until Stan left Ford pacing in the living room when the kids finally rang to say they would be there soon.

The sounds of the battered old car reached Ford before he could even see it and he was at the porch just as it came into view, biting at his nails as his eyes scanned the car nervously.

“Grunkle Ford!”

A whirlwind of a girl launched into Ford’s waiting arms barely seconds later, a beam of a smile on her face that instantly soothed any worries that his heart had had.

_She’s safe. She’s here._

“Sorry we’re late, the bus broke down on the way and neither of our phones had signal.” A voice echoed from across the drive, the car door slamming shut behind him. Stan had gone to collect them alone, as they’d agreed. The bus station was still a bit too crowded for Ford’s tastes especially after 2 hours of extra waiting that neither of them had expected, setting him on edge. But none of that mattered now, the whispering doubts and sharp toothed fears melting as Dipper came into view, his voice sweeping away the dregs.

_He’s safe. He’s here, everything is OK._

“I’m just glad you’re here now.” Ford gave Mabel another squeeze before gesturing Dipper forward for a hug too and squeezing him tight. It had been too long and everything felt warm and safe with them both here. His family all back together again where he could hear their familiar footsteps throughout the day, could hear voices and laughter that had been achingly missed since their departure.

“So, what are we doing today? Do we have plans? The forest? The town? Oh! How about-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, down girl.” Stan ruffled Mabel’s hair and laughed as he was batted away. “Come on, it’s been a long journey. It must have been pretty tiring.”

“She’s been hyped up on Mabel juice since this morning.” Dipper muttered, pulling himself away from Ford’s embrace.

“So doubly exhausting for you then.”

Dipper snorted at the words, nodding once as Mabel shook her head.

“We’re only here for a week! We’ve got so much to do!”

“Well that’s too bad. Because I thought that takeout sounded good.” Stan hummed, grabbing their bags and wandering through the porch door. “I thought you promised to bring a scrapbook with you and we’d hear all about what you’ve been up to since you were here last and all that. Thought you’d have questions for us as well.”

Ford couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that escaped at Mabel’s warring expression, slightly disappointed at not seeing her old friends yet but also brimming with glee at being allowed to ramble to her hearts content about all the fun times they’d had. He snapped his fingers, as if he’d just thought of something as he stood up, gaining her attention. “Oh yeah, we also got some snacks and the living room all set up for a movie night.” He followed Stan into the house, peeking back at them with a sly smirk on his face. “I’m pretty sure Stan went out and picked up some of those movies you’ve told me are classics that I have to watch.”

“OK, I’m sold!” Mabel squealed, grabbing Dipper’s hand and racing passed Ford in her haste to make it inside and hunker down for an evening filled with stories and cheesy movies.

Ford shook his head endearingly as Dipper joined in on the enthusiasm when he realised Stan had listened to both of them on the movie choices and started picking out the best ones from the pile.

He closed the door quietly behind them, locking it adding the finally piece of peace he needed before he followed them to the other room.

It was funny how all his fears and worries seemed ridiculous and irrational now.

 

* * *

 

“What’s that noise?”

Ford froze as Mabel’s head hit his chest, eyes straining upwards to look at him, the others following her gaze. He gulped, his face flushing as he woke up properly. He’d been drifting slowly, a full stomach and the never-ending torrent of voices around him leaving him warm and sated in the couch cushions. It had been hours since the kids had arrived, the first movie close to its end and all four of them lounging without a care in the world. Mabel had curled up in his lap the first chance she’d got, dragging a blanket with her as Stan sat close beside him with Dipper doing the same. He could feel her heart beat as he wrapped his arms around her and gave a soft happy noise at the contact.

_They’re here, you’ve got them. This place is safe._

And just as the contented feeling had settled deep in him and his eyes had started to close, a soft noise had escaped him. A rumble from deep within his chest, quiet and continuous as he snuggled himself deeper into the pile they had made without thought.

And then Mabel had spoken and suddenly self-consciousness and a spike of shame had flooded back in.

“Oh that’s- I, I mean…”

“Did you just purr, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel let out the words in a happy hush making Ford flush more and scoot away.

“I- maybe? It’s just a habit I picked up from the banderbears. I didn’t actually think I still did it.” Ford frowned, his head tilting to try and remember the last time he had done so. “Sorry…”

“You don’t have to apologise.” Stan went back to staring at the screen with a shrug, nonchalant about the whole affair. Ford was grateful for one pair of eyes vanishing from him.

“Yeah, of course not! Also, what’s a banderbear?”

Ford glanced down as Dipper shuffled somehow closer, eyes now fixed and interested at the thought of information. Ford felt his heart slow back down as the shame left him to be replaced by grateful fondness for the ever curious boy. “Oh, they’re wonderful creatures. They’re soft and kind but you wouldn’t know just by looking at them. They’re bigger than any bears you’d find in this dimension and are fiercely protective of their own. But as long as you don’t aggravate them they’re very docile and gentle. There were many enemies for them in the woods, predators that could take one down quickly so they startled easily and would run given half a chance instead of fighting if there was even the slimmest chance that they wouldn’t win.”

“How did you come across them?”

Ford looked straight down at Mabel, laughing as she almost went cross eyed to keep looking at him. He heard the movie get paused as Stan settled beside them, just as intrigued but he found the stares felt less judgemental now, though he knew deep down they hadn’t been to begin with. Apparently his story was more engaging than the movie’s plot had been which helped him continue. “Well. I guess it all started when I came across a cub being attacked by a-” Ford gulped, an image sparking up behind his eyes as his heart skipped a beat in a jolt of fear. Those creatures had been a terror, one that he would not wish on anyone nor did he want to even describe one to the two kids. “Well, a vicious creature, one I had met more than once on my journeys…I lost a few friends to them…” His voice went quiet, a small hand squeezing his own letting him know they understood and wouldn’t ask more. His heart warmed at the gesture. “Anyway, I saw this little fluffy cub, screaming pitifully away as this thing came towards it. It was reckless of me I know but the way those creatures hunt…well, believe me, you wouldn’t wish that kind of death on anyone. And after losing one too many acquaintances to the beasts I decided it would be a kindness to the world to rid them of one. So I jumped in and fought it.” He went quiet for a moment, building up the suspense, trying not to chuckle at the atmosphere bubbling up around them. “I fought it away, battled it tooth and nail until I managed to defeat and kill it. Only it managed to bite me as well. They secrete a toxin that numbs and paralyses the body and what with the blood loss from the deep bite, I found myself drifting into unconsciousness. The last thought going through my head was a curse as this cub trundled over to me, a creature that I had never studied before and left me wondering whether saving it had been the right thing to do at all.”

“It was though, right?”

Ford grinned as Mabel whispered, caught up in the tale with wide eyes and an arm clutched around his. “It was. I woke up the next day and found myself in their den. There was water and food left beside me and some kind of berry had been crushed into my side that had stopped the bleeding and halted any infection. Fascinatingly intelligent creatures those banderbears.” He hummed happily, a soft purr echoing out of him without thought again. “I stayed with them for a long time. They communicated through gestures and a series of grunts and growls. I learnt a lot from them, sets of noises that scared away different predators, which ones couldn’t be scared away and were best to flee from, the predators to climb away from instead of trying to outrun them.” He nodded to himself, his eyes staring into the middle distance as he slumped back against his seat. “They had this howl, a certain noise that travelled far and wide and any banderbear within hearing distance would answer the call and sound it back. If a banderbear was on their own and facing a predator they couldn’t run from they would howl the alarm and the others would answer, and the sound would reverberate until you didn’t know where the howls were coming from, all in the hopes that the predator would think it was surrounded and flee.”

“And the purring?”

“The purring?” Ford blinked back into the room, his smile soft and hesitant. “Oh, right, that. Well it was a noise they made when they were being affectionate, they got a bit…upset if you didn’t make the noise back. Actually it made them nervous. See, the pack would bundle up into a big sleep pile every night with one or two on watch, keeping an eye out for any predators. If the den was safe and secure they’d let out that purring noise, a comfort to those trying to rest that the pack was safe, their home was safe and that it was time to rest.” His smile grew, closing his eyes at the memory. “Those in the sleep pile would make the noise as well as they fell asleep, it was like being on a warm furry bed that softly vibrated and lulled you to sleep. But the thing was if one of their number _didn’t_ make the noise they thought that they had noticed something dangerous so I had to learn it too. The first night when I didn’t understand they all kept waking up and looking round for a threat that wasn’t there.” He tried not to let his sadness show through as the memories continued. Remembering the day he’d lost the pack. Lost a family he’d grown used to travelling with.

“So the noise is to show that everyone is safe?”

Ford nodded at Dipper’s words, glad he could put it so neatly and drag his thoughts away from gloomier times.

“Can you do it again?”

“What?”

Mabel grinned up at Ford, shuffling to stand up in his lap as she cheekily ruffled his hair. “Purr, Grunkle Ford!”

Ford huffed playfully at her before obliging, kind of liking her playing with his hair. He let the content noise rumble through his chest again as the thoughts filled his head. _The pack is safe, your family is safe, this place is secure._

He blinked as the noise was reciprocated.

Mabel was staring at him intently, head cocked to one side as she listened before repeating the sound back at him. “Like that?”

“Y-yeah, like that.” Ford’s voice was low with shock as Mabel slowly sat back down, still making the noise, though it was interspersed with small huffs of laughter at the nice feeling. His ears pricked up as Dipper tried as well, much more hesitant than Mabel but gaining confidence at Ford’s small intake of breath.

Mabel leant back against him, chest now vibrating against his with the noise and the gesture made his eyes sting slightly. He pulled her in close, a deep loud rumble making her squeak giddily before repeating it back and Dipper tried to reach the tone as well.

Stan chuckled, shaking his head beside them until Dipper grumbled that ‘everyone had to do it!’ and he rolled his eyes before half-heartedly making the noise back just the once before turning the movie back on to stop any further prodding.

Ford found he didn’t mind, it didn’t matter to him like it once had to him pack mates if one of them did not answer the call, it was enough that none of his family cared and that he could make the noise without judgement that truly warmed his heart.

His eyes closed slowly again a few moments later, the drone of the TV sending him over the edge once again now with the added help of a small rumble against his chest.

 

* * *

 

Stan would find himself laughing endearingly after the twins left for home again. Would find himself making up a quick excuse for Ford when he became curious at the noise before vanishing for a moment just so that he didn’t see through the lie.

On a spare page in Mabel’s scrapbook for Ford, she had added the note ‘ _purring makes Grunkle Ford feel safe.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Purring prompt/headcanon from @pinesinthewoods ^.^ Family feels ♥ Another shout out to ‘The Edge Chronicles’ whose creatures feature throughout portal hops in my fics XD Banderbears are actually really solitary creatures if I remember but they are the most gentle as well ^^ (also I never got over one of them being killed ;.;)


	8. Always There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Second commission for @the-discordia! 8D I’m gonna have these queued up for a bit hopefully ^^ 
> 
> Warnings: Violence and panic attacks?

“Grunkle Ford! Grunkle Ford!”

Ford felt himself gasping for breath, lungs burning as he bolted up the stairs as fast as he could to the attic, following the panicked screams, the cries for help as his mind and body yelled at him to go faster. _They need you, they’re hurt- it’s all your fault- get to them_ **now** _._

He dove into the room, the door slamming against the wall with enough force to make the wall shake under his fingers. He froze, crouched low and ready at the sight across the room. A terrible warning of pain and grief ripped out of him in a snarl, his eyes narrowing to slits at the yellow demon hovering in the middle.

“ _Well, well, well, if it isn’t IQ.”_

“Bill.” Ford spat out amidst a torrent of growls that warped the name almost beyond recognition as he reached for his gun. His eyes traced across the kids, now whimpering as they were held by the demon close to the ceiling but far apart from one another.

“G-grunkle Ford-d.”

“Everything’s going to be fine.” He tried to make his voice reassuring as he turned back to Bill, gun raised. “Put them down. _Now_.”

Bill watched him for a few moments, eye calculating and alert at the weapon aimed at him. His expression changed, voice smug. “ _Alright. This is just between us, after all.”_

A gasp left Ford as he was slammed back against the wall, his head hitting it with a thunk that made his mind blank out in pain. The injury was nothing to the pain that left him in an agonising whine barely a moment later as Bill dropped the twins from the ceiling to the floor with a sickening crunch before he dragged them back to the ceiling, now dazed and quiet, pliant in his hands.

_“See? I did what you asked. I put them down. You didn’t say how long I had to let them go for though.”_ Bill cackled, Ford’s eyes glued to his as he twirled the kids around lazily. “ _So- how many hits like that do you think they’ll last before they’re unconscious? I’m thinking only a few but maybe you have more faith in them.”_

“Bill. Stop. Please.” The words forced their way up his throat, choking him as the twins struggled lethargically in Bill’s grasp.

“ _Come on, Sixer, it’s no fun unless you play along. Oh! I know! Let’s see how they do for round 2 before you make your decision.”_

“No, please-” Ford writhed against his invisible binds, ignoring the way they bit and tore into his skin at his movements in his determination to protect the kids. “ _Stop_ -”

 

* * *

 

“ _Bill, Stop_!” Ford yanked himself upwards, tumbling into an unexpected darkness. He panted, the silence around him confusing and guiltily comforting against the screams he had previously been hearing. His eyes strained, a few slow blinks as his eyes adjusted, bringing the room into focus and he realised he was in his own room not the attic.

_It was just a dream? But it felt so- Bill…he had them…_

Ford shook his head, his breaths evening out from the pants he’d been doing, his heart rate still racing as he told himself over and over that it was all a dream. The kids were upstairs peacefully asleep and it was just his own head playing tricks on him to agonisingly stop him sleeping and remind him that he had something to lose now, had people to watch over and he’d failed them by trying to rest.

_What if it wasn’t? They need you. It wasn’t a dream, not_ **just** _a dream. What if he has them? What if they can’t cry out, then what? You’ll never forgive yourself if he hurts the-_

Before the thought was even fully formed his body was moving. He stumbled towards his door, legs wobbly but determined as he clattered out and around the familiar layout of the house, not needing to turn on lights as muscle memory guided him haphazardly towards the stairs.

His heart started to race again, his breaths short and shallow as images flared sharp and nauseating behind his eyelids. Every time he blinked a flash of red painted across them, new twisted ways that Bill could be hurting the kids and keeping them quiet. New ways to make Ford do whatever he wanted just to keep them safe, to bring them back to him whole and unharmed.

_It would be your fault if they get hurt. If they get between this fight you started with a demon years ago. All your fault, you fell for it, you fell for his lies and now they’ll be the ones to pay for it, not you. No, he won’t hurt you, not physically anyway. He knows how best to torture you now-_

Ford crashed through the attic door, flinching as he mirrored his dream entirely and stared upwards into the middle of the room, fully expecting to hear a sharp grating cackle, for a sickly yellow to fill his entire vision and leave him weak and lost against the turn of events.

The gloom and silence prevailed.

He took a shaky breath, hand trailing through his hair as nothing happened. He took in the empty beds, the unusual quiet and thick heavy emptiness that sucked him in now he was here.

For just a few more moments he forgot reality.

And then with a lurch everything came thundering back.

_Wait - what are you doing? The kids - the kids have gone home. They went back home last week. Of course they wouldn’t be here. Of course Bill wouldn’t be hurting them up here because they’re not here._

Ford’s knees hit the floor as relief washed through him. The kids were safe. They weren’t even up here. A small hysterical bubble of laughter vibrated up his throat, choking him with the respite it gave him.

The laughter died on his lips not even a second later, a switch flipping and dragging him back under.

A whimper left him as the fears slipped back in passed the relief, the emptiness of the house ringing mockingly back at him. What if the kids weren’t safe? They were stuck at home, far away where he couldn’t protect them. What if they were hurt? Or in danger and he didn’t know? What if they were screaming out for help, begging and pleading and he couldn’t answer them?

Another whine escaped as it all got too much, alarm sweeping through him as creaking floorboards snapped him to attention and he dived under the closest bed without a thought.

_Gotta hide, gotta stay quiet. Don’t let them find you, if they get you now you won’t be able to help the kids-_

“Ford? You up here?”

Ford froze, a familiar and cautious voice dragging him back from the brink. Though it wasn’t enough to get him to leave the safety of his hiding spot as Stan’s hesitant voice broke through the silence. He made a small noise back in affirmation, all he could do right at that moment. He was at least thankful to have enough sense to him to crush the small voice that told him to drag Stan under with him, to pull him into the safe space and protect him at least _because you can’t protect the kids, but Stan- you can protect Stan, just grab him-_ **No** _._ Mabel’s voice slipped passed the protective instinct, reminded him that the feeling of safety was relative and that the small space would probably have the opposite effect on his brother.

No, it was best for Stan to go back to bed and leave him to it. They were safe, he’d made sure the shack was safe. It was just his head playing tricks on him. He grit his teeth, willing himself to leave the small enclosed space but his body ignored him, shuffling deeper into the comfort.

A small thump next to him made him jump, his head hitting the bed with a sharp crack that made Stan hiss out a litany of apologies and curses before taking a few steps back. Ford shook his head, the pain another link to reality and away from spiralling thoughts. He shifted, hand hitting something solid and a questioning noise bubbled out at the contact.

“Sorry, sorry- just thought you might need that. Especially when I realised you were up _here_ -”

Ford made another small noise, one that he hoped conveyed that he was grateful for whatever Stan had tried. Anything to stop him sounding so guilty. He tilted his head curiously, pulling what he now knew was a small book towards him. It was too dark to discern what book and he was about to question Stan when turning a page wafted the scent of pine with it. He took a deep stuttering breath, hearing Stan’s mouth snap shut as he did so, as if noting the minute change but he took no notice, hand slipping between the pages to find textures, unlike any other book. Pages covered in wool, soft furs and sandpaper, things to drag him back to reality and remind him that this plain of existence was real.

This was Mabel’s scrap book. She’d filled it with notes for them both, things that he hated, things that he liked, what could make him panic and what would help him breathe again. There were notes about what certain noises were and all the lovely aspects of the colour yellow that he despised that he now listed in his head even when it was too dark to actually read the words.

She’d taken the time, added stickers that smelled when you scratched them, full of the scents that made him feel safe and at home. Slipped in textures that he could sink his fingers into whenever he needed comfort and she wasn’t there to provide it.

It wasn’t just her book, Dipper had added notes too. Had gone out of his way to catalogue every creature Ford had yet to find in the forest, had slipped in notes of where to find materials for the barriers he’d created round the shack and the names and features of people who lived in town so they wouldn’t startle him when they appeared unannounced at the door.

“Feeling better?”

Ford nodded from under the bed, hearing the soft groan as Stan sat down on the floor beside him. Realising belatedly that Stan couldn’t see him, he snaked a hand out from under the bed, giving Stan’s a tight squeeze to show his gratitude and making him twitch in the process.

“Not ready to come out yet though?”

Ford gave the hand another squeeze, glad when Stan kept hold of it and ran a soothing thumb across the back.

“Alright, bud, that’s alright. You stay under there as long as you need. Bad dream?” Stan waited for a response, another tap to his hand. “Thought so. Gonna guess the kids were involved?” The hand shook in his, almost tugging away. “Easy, easy. They’re home safe and sound. I’d say we could ring them but it’s late and their parents would kill us, but we can ring them straight away in the morning? How about that?”

“But what if they’re-” Ford found his voice again, a choked off hitch to his words at the possibilities.

“They’re fine. I promise. If they weren’t they’d be ringing us, we made them promise to keep that gizmo of yours next to their beds, remember?”

Ford hadn’t even realised he’d been holding his breath until he exhaled shakily, the fog of sleep still itching over him until Stan’s words dragged out the information he’d forgotten. Of course they’d given them a way to contact them at all times, no matter how their phone signal or internet access was, how could he have forgotten?

“Hey, how about you keep looking that book over until you feel better?”

Stan gave his hand another squeeze, obviously assuming that Ford would want to shuffle further into his hiding place but he kept hold of him, turning the pages one by one with his other hand, glad for his brother’s presence on the other side of the wooden frame. Stan kept chatting beside him, innate words to keep him centred, anything and everything he could think of just to keep up a monologue that kept his thoughts at bay.

They sat like that for a while before Ford found he’d calmed down enough to pull himself out from under the bed. He stood up, confusing Stan but only went to flick the light on before settling next to his brother, scrapbook in hand.

“Y-you know, there are some good photos in here. Have you had a proper look through yet?” Ford kept his eyes on the scrapbook, fully expecting Stan to question him instead of going along with the distraction even if their interactions so far since returning had been the complete opposite.

Stan smiled, leaning back and shaking his head. “No, I haven’t had much of a look as it’s your book. Want to show me the best ones?”

Ford nodded, pausing only when he’d already started to open the book. “Wait, we should do this in the morning. You should get back to sleep-”

“Ford, are you going to go back to sleep?”

Ford shook his head vehemently, the mere thought of sleep making his body curl in on itself and for him to long for the safety of his small hiding space again. He couldn’t rest until he knew for certain that the kids were ok, couldn’t think of sleeping peacefully when there was the slightest chance that they were hurt.

“Then I don’t need to go to sleep either. Not just gonna leave you to deal with this alone.”

“But-”

“Open the damn book, Poindexter, you’d do the same for me if it was the other way round.”

Ford snapped his mouth shut, wanting to ask when he’d ever have to do the same in return but knowing that he was right. If he saw his twin in a panic, he wouldn’t just leave him to deal with it alone. He gave a sigh, relaxing as he ran a hand over the front of the scrapbook before thumbing through it to the right page, already knowing them by heart. “Well, there’s this photo from the first day I got back-”

Stan leaned over him, cutting him off, eyes wide as he took in the photo of them both. “How on Earth did she take that photo without either of us noticing?”

“Who knows?”

Stan snorted, an endearing mutter under his breath. “Power of Mabel, I guess.”

Ford chuckled at that, the motion unwinding the tight ball of anxiety still lodged in his chest as he turned the next page and they chatted and laughed and whiled away the hours with small stories and nostalgic laughter about the kids that had only left them a little while ago. It was strange how quiet the house had become, how much they could miss them after such a small amount of time but they did.

It was nice to know Stan felt the same. That Stan would be glad to check up on them in the morning too to make sure they were safe even if he kept gruffly reminding Ford that they were fine.

It would take time for both of them to get used to only one another’s company again but Ford was sure that they would adapt, just like they had done with everything else so far.

His hand ran back over the scrapbook, smile widening as his thoughts became less dire.

After all, Mabel and Dipper had made sure to leave a piece of themselves here to keep them safe.

And over time he was sure the wounds would heal and he’d be able to rest without worrying about them not being in sight.

One step at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Poor Ford at least Mabel’s scrapbook will help him through (as well as Stan ofc!).


	9. Innocent Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Third commission for @the-discordia! ^o^
> 
> Warnings: Nightmares/Panic attacks.

“ _Well, well, well, well, well. Aren’t you a sight for sore eye.”_

Ford’s breath hitched as he sunk into the field that his mind had conjured up. He knew it was the mindscape, knew the barren world for what it was as well as the vicious sharp cackle that bit into his core and left him gasping for breath. He ducked down into the undergrowth, a futile attempt he knew but it was all that he felt he could do after 30 years of running. _Run, hide, find shelter. Protect yourself, survive. Trust no one, trust no one- it’s just a dream, you’re home, you’re safe he’s just trying to get to you-_

_“Stanford Filbrick Pines, my old pal.”_

The undergrowth around him melted away, making him stumble back for barely a second before he jumped up, fight or flight kicking in. It would do no good to show fear to the demon, he fed off of that, could twist and manipulate every thought.

He had to be better than that.

Ford snarled at the demon, not even articulating his name, the name carrying the stench of betrayal high enough to tear through any fear and give him the anger he needed to stare the demon down.

_“Tsk, not even gonna say hello to an old friend? Where have your manners gone, IQ? I guess 30 years without much socialising does that to a man, even a Brainiac like you.”_ Bill hummed thoughtfully, going to give him a pat on the head, but Ford hissed, pulling away before he could touch him, hand going to his belt for a gun that wasn’t there. _“Well, then again, Brainiac like you never did all that much socialising before you fell through, did ya? You alienated yourself from everyone, guess it wasn’t that hard to go another 30 years like that.”_

Ford bit his tongue, not letting him see how much the words stung. He would never wish his life on anyone, it had been rough, strewn with far too many moments that he regretted but he had done what he needed to to survive. He knew that a reaction was what Bill wanted. That there was a worry deep in his chest that after finally making it back here he was too different, too changed by his time in the portal. He hadn’t been here long and Stan seemed to want to make amends but perhaps even he would give up sooner rather than later.

He stood up straighter, eyes alight with anger. “What do you want?”

_“Oh, he can speak. Me? I just wanted to let you know I was back too.”_ Bill shrugged, cane twirling as he rose into the air. _“I mean, I don’t know if you’ve noticed Ford but you’re not exactly fitting in your home dimension. Sooner or later somethings going to crack. Maybe you-”_ Bill pointed the cane at him, before sweeping it around widely. “ _Or your family, who knows. Me? I’m placing bets on that rift of yours.”_ He clicked his fingers, blues sparks igniting into the rift, Ford’s heart thudding painfully at the sight. _“I mean, you can’t keep it safe forever, not with that hair trigger of yours. You’re gonna slip up, Sixer, it’s just bound to happen.”_

Ford snapped then, crouched low and ready to pounce. “Like hell will I let anything happen to it. There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near our dimension!” He swept a hand out at Bill, shooing him away.

_“And what are you gonna do, hey?”_ Bill’s eye widened comically. “ _You think your brother will put up with you scaring the kids just because they got too close to it? You think he’ll give a damn if he thinks you’ll hurt one of them? You’ve been gone from this dimension for too long, IQ. You’re a loose cannon.”_

Ford flinched, the words feeling like a physical slap as he took them in. He wouldn’t be surprised, he was a nervous wreck. _No, he’s just saying what you’re thinking, he’s in your head, ignore him. Stan wouldn’t, the kids-_ **You wouldn’t hurt the kids.** “Get out! You have no dominion here!” Ford snapped out passed the panic lodging in his throat at the mere thought of hurting one of them, of losing himself in a flashback and forgetting where he was. Focusing on Bill, focusing on the anger brought him back, crushed the images before they could hold sway over him.

_“Come on Sixer. Why do we have to make this so hard? Say how about you help me and I_ **won’t** _go say hello to the kids.”_ Bill’s eye seemed to light up. _“Great kids, those two.”_

“Don’t you dare go near them.” Ford snarled, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He cursed, hating the gleeful look Bill held at the honest worry.

_“Or maybe I should pay your brother a visit? How about that?”_

Ford turned his head away as Bill laughed, trying not to let it show how his heart raced and his stomach churned at the thinly veiled threats.

Bill continued to cackle, the sound enveloping and ringing in Ford’s ears as if it was the only sound that existed, letting the rift drop to the floor.

“ _Sooner or later I’ll get what I want, Sixer. With or without your help. And then I’m gonna have some fun with your family.”_

Ford dove for the falling rift even if he knew deep down it wasn’t the real deal.

_“Things change, Stanford Pines, you can’t keep me at bay forever.”_

Ford gasped as his fingers scraped the rift, the glass breaking just out of reach. The mindscape ignited, a dark portal opening above him that Bill glided through. He stood up quickly, fire flicking coils around him, reducing his mindscape to ash and reminding him of a forest fire he’d barely made it out of alive. The heat clawed at his back, tendrils licking at him as he fought to breathe against the acrid smoke.

Everything was yellow. Too yellow, sick and poisonous and blinding. Engulfing him in heat and betrayal. Mistrust bloomed deep and sizzling under his skin as a black slit rolled into the centre of his field of vision.

_“Things_ **change** _.”_

 

* * *

 

Ford awoke with a start, deep breaths of clean crisp air burning ice into his lungs. He kicked the blankets away from himself, panic subsiding ever so slightly at the breeze, the cool air dampening the fire his mind had stirred up moments ago.

Part of him whispered to go outside, the practical side of his brain told him it wasn’t worth the risk. He didn’t know what was out there, there wasn’t enough protection as it was in here. His mind started to spin, theories and half thought out sleepy notions filling his head as he wondered about a way not to just protect his head but ward the shack, keep them all safe and sound.

_Keep the rift safe from-_ **The rift** _. Where’s the rift?_

Ford broke out of his trance, eyes quickly going to his gun nearby and the rift that rested beside it. He gave a sigh of relief. He knew he should leave it down in the basement, change the password and make sure no one went down there. But the risk felt too great. Every moment that the rift was away from him, his hackles raised, his mind forever on what could be happening to it. Circling phantom nightmares of it falling into the wrong hands, of the domino effect it would have on the world.

No it wasn’t worth the risk, he had to keep it with him, had to keep it safe.

But after that dream this room didn’t feel safe.

Ford gulped, gathering up the rift and his favourite gun, giving it a few inspecting gazes and tweaks to make sure it was up to scratch before voices hissed, whispering insidiously at him and he scurried out of the one available exit.

He shuffled down the corridor, ears listening intently as he went. A small continuous hum took over, making him cock his head to one side as he sidled up against the wall, keeping his back protected.

His mind suddenly clicked into gear, a curse on his lips even as surprised pride swept through him.

Stan was on watch tonight.

He’d forgotten.

The only way he slept at all at night was with the knowledge that Stan was staying up instead for him. It made him guilty, shame bubbling up but Stan had taken to the job willingly. Had shooed him away almost angrily the first time he’d found out Ford wasn’t sleeping. He’d had no proof that Stan kept his word until tonight, always conking out and trusting that his brother would look after them.

At least now he knew he did.

_Now what?_

He bit his lip, staying stock still against the wall. He knew going back to his room now that the safety had been compromised was not an option, nor was going outside or going down into the basement. Both felt unprotected, tainted by Bill and the portal and a myriad of other things he’d rather not think about.

_Go talk to him! He’ll understand!_

Ford shook his head at the small voice in his head, his legs refusing to budge. The voice spoke the truth, he knew it did. After all, he’d expected crass words and mocking laughter more than once already and yet his brother had yet to show any judgement passed his initial shock at his return.

The rift shook in his hands and he was drawn out of the musing, hand burying it tight to his chest to stop its movements.

_No. I can’t! I’d have to tell him about the rift and Bill and –I’m not ready. He can’t know. I can’t burden him with that, with what opening the portal caused…_

A new voice entered the fray, a cackle that turned his blood to ice and made him shake. _You brother won’t put up with you forever._

“Shut up. Shut up. You’re not here.” Ford whispered to himself, a hiss that he knew wouldn’t be heard over the low chatter of the TV. He saw yellow whenever he blinked, the darkness of reality suddenly more welcoming as he noted to himself that he’d see Bill coming a mile off.

The TV went quiet, Ford hunched further into the gloom, mouth snapping shut in fear that Stan had heard him. All he wanted was somewhere to hide, to protect himself. He couldn’t talk to Stan, not about this, what would he think? There had to be a point when Stan gave up on him- he wasn’t ready for that conversation, wasn’t ready to see the judgement in his eyes.

He waited, not even breathing before a door closed and he gave a sigh of relief. Stan had gone to the bathroom, that was all. He jolted himself, standing up. It was now or never. He darted silently forward, dipping and diving around the objects strewn in front of the glow of the TV as he navigated a path. He slipped into the kitchen as he heard the toilet flush, letting the air out of his lungs as he did so. Now he could traverse the rest of the house without walking passed the open doorway of the living room, wouldn’t have any curious questions or a grumpy brother telling him to go back to bed when the thought of sleep twisted his stomach into knots.

He paused for a moment in the kitchen, eyes scanning the room with a new light. _This could work, two exits, no chance of getting cornered…_

The carrying noise of the TV turning back on made him jump, making himself shrink down as small as possible as his heart thundered in his chest and the rift seemed to vibrate in tandem. Stan could find him if he wasn’t careful, and Stan always seemed to be able to find his hiding places. It wasn’t that he minded on a normal day, softly surprised but usually touched by his brother checking up on him and leaving him if necessary. But not tonight, he couldn’t have that tonight, not with Bill’s voice echoing round his head, telling him his family would leave when it got too much.

A small whimper escaped him as he eyed the table. _Too obvious, do you want him to find you? Even Bill could find you there._

He took a steady breath. Every avenue he went down was either somewhere he’d hidden before or so obvious even the kids would probably find him. Nowhere felt safe, the house was too open, there were too many corners where creatures could hide and sneak up on him, too many places to get caught and far too many places to be _seen_. Even now the tell-tale feeling of being watched skittered down his back, the fear that Bill’s henchmen were breathing down his neck and close to dragging him to his doom screamed warnings in his head, to just _hide, quickly, stay quiet and low and out of trouble_. Before his thoughts went full circle though his eyes landed on the cupboards lining the kitchen. He scurried forwards, ignoring the overthinking his brain was trying to do as he opened one. He grinned proudly at the space. It was just what he needed, there was no chance anyone could sneak up on him in there and he had a weapon ready for anyone who might open it. Besides, he was pretty certain he’d never seen anyone go into this particular cupboard anyway. It was perfect, no one would suspect him here. He would say even Stan wouldn’t be able to find him!

The rift touched skin as he moved to inspect the hiding place, cold and urgent against him and suddenly all thoughts of whether or not it was a good safe spot fled as he hurried inside, closing the door behind him silently. Some of the tension escaped him in that moment. As long as he stayed awake and alert, he’d be fine. Nothing could get him in here, not without meeting a face full of his gun and even that had been fine-tuned in defence against Bill. He tightened his grip on it, let the darkness ground him and the silent air keep him sane.

_You’re safe. The rift is safe. Bill won’t find you here, as long as you stay awake. Just stay awake and in the morning you’ll come up with a plan. A way to keep Bill out of the shack and then you can rest, rest knowing that he can’t get inside…_

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the morning sunlight blinded him that he realised against all of his internal musings not to, he had undoubtedly at some point fallen asleep.

He’d kept himself up as long as possible, coming up with a fool proof plan to ward the shack from Bill and then trying to figure out how exactly to get the materials for the barrier.

At some point the equations and theories must have drifted him off to sleep however as he now found himself face to face with Mabel who was blinking back at him with wide eyes.

He froze, mind blanking out into sheer panic at being caught, and by one of the kids! Shame bubbled up thick and fast, pooling in his guts as he realised how he must look. He dropped the gun down behind him, hoping she hadn’t seen it and new terrible pictures flashed before his eyes.

_You and that hair trigger of yours- oh god, what if I’d hurt the kids last night?_

“Grunkle Ford?”

The words snapped him out of the spell his niece seemed to have over him. He sat up with a start, cracking his head against the top loud enough to make Mabel wince and a small noise of empathetic pain to echo behind her. _Oh god, Dipper’s here as well. They’ve both caught you hiding-_

“Grunkle Ford, can you pass the cereal?”

“Huh?” Ford blinked passed the pain, rubbing the top of his head as he stared at Mabel in hopeful confusion. She pointed beside him and he followed the finger, noting the box just hidden by his shoulder. He gave a shaky nod and grabbed it, holding it out for her without another word.

“Thanks. Hey, are you playing hide and seek?”

“Mabel.”

Ford continued to stare blankly as Mabel turned to Dipper with a small pout before turning back to smile brightly at the newest addition to their family.

“No? Well you’ve sure found a good spot! Can I sit down there with you? It looks comfy!”

“Mabel, I’m pretty sure Great Uncle Ford would like to be left alone.”

“Oh.” Mabel looked disappointed but Ford couldn’t bring himself to speak, still oddly dazed by the turn of events. “Would you like me to close the door?”

“P-Please.” Ford managed to get out, wondering if his shame was written across his face. He just wanted to curl up in the dark and pretend this never happened. He wouldn’t have cared on the other side of the portal, survival always came first but for some reason he couldn’t bear to think about the kids judging him.

“OK. Well, me and Dip-Dop are going to go eat in the living room. We’ll make sure to keep Grunkle Stan busy, don’t worry I won’t tell him about your super awesome hiding spot.” Mabel grinned brightly at him, miming zipping her mouth shut. “But you can come join us whenever you feel like it. You should make sure to eat breakfast! It’s the most important meal of the day!”

And with that the bright spark that was his niece vanished to the peaceful darkness as she closed the door. He blinked, finding that he was a lot calmer than he had been before, even at the sudden interruption. It was hard to think about last night’s nightmare with such a giddy child chattering away to brush away the clouds.

He blinked down at the rift, watching it pulse through the glass. He might not be able to tell them about it, but something akin to hope burned through him at realising belatedly that neither kid had judged his actions at all, both had accepted him without question and made him feel…normal.

He smiled at the thought, mind trailing back to his musings on the barrier, on the items that were needed for it to hold firm and true and give him the peace of mind that the shack at least was protected.

He glanced back at the door, hand already reaching out to push it wide open without a conscious thought as his mind spun with new possibilities.

Perhaps his family could help him with the rift after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And done! This prompt was Mabel finding Ford in a cupboard after a nightmare, headcanon by @pinesinthewoods. I hope this came across as serious, took me ages to figure out how to get Ford from A to B for Mabel to find him ^^;; And then I just wanted Mabel to be 100% accepting cause she’s a dear and yeah ♥ I hope this came across. (And then I realised I mentioned this dream in the first ever feral ford fic and had to go and add bits…and changed it a few times, sorry @the-discordia for the re-writes I sent XD)


	10. Fun and Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Last commission for @the-discordia! ^o^ Thanks for all the commissions, you’re such a star ♥
> 
> Warnings: None that I can see! Just self-indulgent fluff and communication because giving me this prompt to work with gave me all kinds of ideas as to how that episode could have gone *throws all the family feels at you* I’m a sap! I have no regrets~~

“Whose there? Show yourself! I’m warning you.”

Dipper gulped, freezing in place, unable to even talk as he heard a high pitch metallic whine echoing back from the gloom. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, he shook his head in a daze, coughing up the dust that billowed out at the movement.

One minute he’d been outside the house, fighting off Gompers for his die, the next he was falling through a hole into what he could only assume was the basement.

_You know with all the security measures in place a hole in the porch leading straight down here is kind of problematic…_

He’d lost his hazy train of thought about falling though when a low warning growl sent his brain into overload and he wondered for a panicked second whether he’d actually been wrong and he’d instead fallen into some predator’s lair.

That was until a familiar voice had spoken up.

“Well? Speak!”

“It’s me, Great Uncle Ford.” Dipper winced at the high octave his voice hit as he stood up straight, snapping to attention at the bark of a voice.

“Dipper? How did you get down here?”

He bit his lip at the strained suspicious voice, squinting through the darkness to try and catch a glimpse of him. He didn’t know why but he felt nervous, shuffling himself into the light from the hole above to show it was him at the foreboding tone. “Uhm…I fell?”

“You fell?”

Dipper waited as Ford shuffled slowly forward, crouched low as if ready for Dipper to attack him, which he found disconcerting. He sat down, showing his hands were empty and trying to smile but Ford’s face was still doubtful and he kept his gun raised. Dipper stayed quiet, letting him do what he needed. He watched patiently as he took a few looks up, assessing the damage before deciding perhaps Dipper wasn’t lying.

“Huh, I’ll have to fix that. Are you hurt?”

Dipper shook his head, standing up and dusting himself off, only pausing when Ford flinched back at the sudden movements. There was a tense atmosphere around him that Dipper felt guilty about causing, his eyes locking on to the tremor running through his hands. “S-sorry.” He looked anywhere else other than his uncle in that moment, wincing as he saw the mess he’d made as well – the overturned desk, the broken glass. “A-and for that.”

“No, no, you just startled me, that’s all. The sound of you falling that is. Wasn’t expecting to be disturbed down here.” Ford gave him a fairly awkward pat on the shoulder as if trying to show that all was forgiven before he coughed and looked away, crossing his arms defensively. “I do remember telling you that you should stay away from here though. You really shouldn’t have come down here. It’s too dangerous!”

Dipper raised an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms. “I didn’t exactly _mean_ to fall down here.”

Ford blinked at him before a shocked laugh bubbled out of him, breaking the tenseness in the room. “Right, right, of course. But you should get back upstairs.”

 The little hopeful bubble that had blossomed at Ford’s laughter popped almost instantly. “Yeah, OK…” He went to drag his feet away before remembering why he fell. “Oh wait, I think I dropped something!”

“Dipper, that was a terrible lie-”

“No, really!” Dipper darted back under Ford’s desk, not registering anything around him even at the small protective noise Ford made as he shuffled over some of the broken glass. He beamed when he caught sight of the die in amongst it all, snatching it up quickly and making an odd squeak when he found his feet leaving the floor, a hand tight around his collar.

A grumbling growl echoed next to his ear. “Are you trying to hurt yourself?”

“No?” Dipper grinned at the glare being sent his way, even as he got dropped away from the debris. He flourished the item in his hand. “Found it. I’ll leave you to it, Great Uncle Ford.”

“Wait! Is that a 38-sided die?”

Dipper blinked as Ford was suddenly crouched in front of him, eyes hooked on the die as if it was an anomaly he hadn’t figured out yet. “Yeah? It’s from a game-”

“Dungeons, dungeons and more dungeons?”

Dipper blinked, mouth slack for a moment before he nodded frantically. “Yeah! You know that game?”

Ford nodded back at him just as passionately, sitting cross-legged in front of him. If Dipper didn’t know any better he’d have said it seemed like his great uncle was _vibrating_ with excitement. “I haven’t had a chance to play that game in years!”

“Would, uhm-” Dipper hesitated, thoughts going back to the two upstairs who had mocked everything about the game. What if Great Uncle Ford was just humouring him? “Would you like to, uhm…play?” He held out the die towards him, ever hopeful that he might have found someone willing to play with him.

Ford blinked at the hand, slowly taking the die and twiddling it between his fingers before snapping his fist closed around it. “I’d love to.”

“Really? I’ll go grab the board!”

 

* * *

 

Dipper found himself clapping, getting caught up in the tales that Ford spun and almost forgetting he had a part to play in the interactive story. Ford would rock back and forth at points, arms gesturing wildly as he set the scene for Dipper’s character. Other times Dipper would find himself holding his breath as his story teller went absolutely still, voice deep and low before suddenly a creature would be in his path and Ford would re-enact the scene, making him jump a foot in the air and come up with an on the spot reaction to defend his character.

Somehow at points he felt like it wasn’t a game, puzzled by the proud expression Ford would give him or the nod of agreement at his ideas as if he wasn’t just dealing with an imaginary dungeon but a real life situation.

His mentor started to quiet down after a while, excitement still there bubbling under the surface as he fidgeted to the point that Dipper wondered whether he was trying to keep himself in check so he didn’t seem weird. If the boy was honest with himself it was fairly disappointing to think that his great uncle felt the need to regulate himself around him.

That was until he couldn’t help the shudder going through him as said mentor looked around oddly before his eyes brightened and he grabbed something within arm’s reach and just started _chewing_.

Dipper felt a bit nauseous at the sight. He was pretty sure that was the cycloptypus Ford had been chasing round the gift shop just this morning. Was it even _cooked_? “Uhh, Great Uncle Ford?”

“Hmm? Oh sorry! Where are my manners? Would you like some, my boy?”

Dipper shook his head, arms up in front of him as he backed away. Cooked or not, he did not want that anywhere near him. “No, no! It’s fine.” He gulped as Ford shrugged and continued munching, turning back to the game as if nothing odd had happened. Dipper found himself staring determinedly at the board to stop himself from looking up and making the situation awkward even as his brain freaked out. _Is that even edible?! Shut up, Dipper! He’s the author! He’ll know if it’s edible or not! Even if it looks- and smells gross, just-just sit still until he’s done and don’t say anything._ He tried not to think about what it must taste like, the thought almost gagging him.

“You sure you don’t want any? Believe me, it may not look like much, but it’s better than the food in many dimensions.”

_Oh._ “No, honestly, I’m not hungry.” The words slipped out less disgustedly than before, quiet and thoughtful. His eyes widened as he glanced back up at Ford, thoughts ticked over as he scrutinised the scene, the happy expression on the man’s face.

He’d have to make sure he told Mabel that a feast was in order soon to show their Great Uncle what _good_ food tasted like now he was home.

“So, where were we?”

Dipper blinked, realising he was done and smiled brightly, ignoring the sad thoughts that spiralled from Ford’s actions and reactions since they’d gotten to know him, instead choosing to focus on the friendly relative that had landed in their laps. “I had just beaten the pack of enfields that you- I mean Probabilitor sent after me.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, my boy, for defeating the pack you have been rewarded with…”

 

* * *

 

“What’s going on in here?!”

Ford jumped at the loud voice behind him, spinning around to see Stan and Mabel staring down at them in absolute horror. It would have been comical if it didn’t send warning signs sparking through him, telling him something was wrong and he needed to protect himself. “We ran out of room in the basement for our game so we came up here?”

Stan blinked down at him, mouth opening and closing silently, making Ford frown at the warring expression on his face. He couldn’t quite get to grips with it, the fact that his twin’s expression was unreadable sending a sharp shiver down his spine. Had he done something wrong? “Stan-?”

“Grunkle Stan, Ducktective is going to start soon!”

Ford watched as Stan looked down at Mabel, biting his lip before glancing back at Ford. “You mind, uhh, putting that on hold for a second while we move the TV?”

“Wait, what?” Dipper started up, obviously shocked at the lack of argument.

Stan shrugged. “Well you too have strewn yourselves everywhere and we’re gonna miss our show, not really time to argue you know. Though I thought you were interested in watching it too?”

“Well, I am…but…” Dipper looked out of the corner of his eye at Ford, obviously glad to have someone who shared an interest in his game. “I mean, I can watch the re-run later?”

“True. Well we’re all keyed up to watch the first showing, so if you don’t mind, we’ll take the TV into the gift shop.”

“But Grunkle Stan the last time you sat on the floor with us you complained for hours about having to get up!”

Ford blinked at all of them, slightly hunched in at the sudden attention and itching to go back to the basement. But another more stubborn part of his brain held him down. He wasn’t doing anything wrong! In fact he actually felt like he was sinking into the normality of this dimension as he sat here with Dipper! _But no one’s saying you have done anything wrong…_ He blinked at the soft hissing thought, eyes back to Stan thoughtfully. He found it strange that only a day or two after returning - and punching Stan in the face, his brother didn’t seem to be holding a grudge at all, nor trying to make things difficult when they had just taken over the living space without a thought. A new idea slipped in though as he sat there, his eyes finding Stan’s hopefully, wanting to make amends, to keep up this fairly amicable mood that seemed to be held between them even if their interests lay elsewhere. “You could always join us?”

Stan snorted, shaking his head. “You’re alright, Ford, but it is nice to see some things don’t change. You’re still a huge nerd.”

Ford sat stock still as he realised one of the warring expressions on Stan’s face had been a relieved fondness. He couldn’t say he blamed him, he’d changed a lot in 30 years, and so had Stan, but it was soothing to see familiar motions in his twin’s behaviour.

“Grunkle Ford, you know we’re already on the floor…”

“Hmm?” Ford looked over to Dipper before he realised what he meant. “Oh right! The board will be easier to move into the other room than the TV would.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we can move some of the racks around, right, Grunkle Stan? Make a big open area for our game?”

Stan gave them a stern look, trying to keep the amusement out of his eyes as he crossed his arms. “As long as you move them all back before I have work tomorrow.”

“Of course!”

“Then off with you both, our show’s about to start!” Mabel grinned, shooing them away before starting to set up their viewing area.

Ford chuckled, grabbing up the graph paper quickly into a stack ready to spread back out again in the other room. He hesitated at the door as Dipper slipped passed him, already chattering to himself about how much more space they’d have on the floor in the other room. “Are you sure neither of you would like to play?”

Stan grinned, patting his shoulder before going to sit in his chair, Mabel instantly curling up in his lap.

“Maybe next time.”

Ford’s face lit up at the words, nodding happily as Stan did the same and turned away from him.

Next time was better than nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sappy, sappy stuff…I liked the thought of Stan being non-confrontational considering this might be one of the first times he sees Ford acting like how he remembered him from 30 years ago? Idk~ I’m pretty sure I’ve made it clear I like the idea of Stan just getting Ford in this au ^.^ he doesn’t want to argue with him when it’s the happiest he’s seen him, you know?
> 
> Also just .-. there are other rooms in the house…XD not that I don’t love probabilitor! And Stan/Mabel being brilliant at d,d and md! I just assumed this prompt was more about Ford/Dipper bonding over the game and thought it’d be nice to end it with all four of them doing what they want to do without arguments ^^ healthy family relationships and all that jazz~
> 
> …I’ll shut up, I’m in a really babbly mood and this was really cute to write XD


	11. Midnight Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: First commission for @lockholmes ^.^ enjoy ♥ I’m really glad people like this au this much, you guys are the best. (I don’t think there’s any big warnings in this one)

_What was that?_

Ford frowned in his sleep, the edge of wakefulness just barely round the corner, a fizzle of warning sparking his brain into action though he didn’t know why.

_Danger! Something’s out there!  
It’s nothing, you’re home. Go back to sleep._

A sudden sharp clatter made his heart embed itself in his throat as he jumped, sitting bolt upright with a gasp, nerves tingling with the urge to flee. He blinked in the gloom, eyes scanning around wildly but nothing came into view that made up for the noise.

He took a deep shuddering breath, ears pricked for the smallest sound.

It felt like an age passed, his mind sinking into doubt and self-deprecation before it finally happened.

It was a softer noise than the one before, jarring and yet almost musical at the same time.

He cursed even as his mind rejoiced that he wasn’t going mad; that _something was out there_ and he had heard it moving around. He scrambled for his gun, checking his side for his concealed weapons as well just to be sure before he took swift long strides to the door, opening it just a crack to peer through and assess the situation.

A room down the hall glowed with artificial light, a small tinkling noise warbling out every few moments before petering again, like a lonely desolate cry of a small creature. Ford’s eyes narrowed, his heart beat slowing but his mind staying alert, suspicious. It didn’t sound like a threat, but any unusual noise could not be taken lightly. He hadn’t lived in this dimension in almost 3 decades, a few weeks here wouldn’t suddenly make him an expert again on anomalies. He had no idea how much had changed, how many creatures focused on luring their prey in before turning on them and tearing them to shreds.

With that in mind he slunk down, pressing himself against the wall before slowly making his way towards the light, prepared to bolt back to his room or dive onto the predator without a seconds thought. Though a small whisper filtered through his head that fleeing was no longer an option.

_It’s not just you now. You have to protect the kids. You have to protect Stan. They don’t know what they’re dealing with._

_…And it’s better they never find out._

He gave a small angry hiss at the mere thought. He knew Dipper was interested in anomalies, just as he had been, but the thought of that small boy going through what _he_ had? It didn’t bear thinking about. And with that in mind he took a deep inhale, closing his eyes as he centred himself, readying him for the probable fight he was about to enter.

There was another jarring loud clunk that made him recoil slightly from the door with a shudder, every nerve standing on end as his eyes popped back open and he took the plunge, shifting over to peek through the half open door.

_If I can just catch it unaware-_

He froze at the sight before him, his gun falling to his side quickly as he realised it wasn’t an enemy.

It was Stan.

His mouth went slack with shock, completely lost at the turn of events. It was the middle of the night. His brother had somehow acquired a- _was that a piano_? for some unknown reason, and was now sat trying to fumble his way around the keys. Or that’s what Ford was getting from the image before him, he was actually more inclined to think that he was still dreaming, the view so out of sync with the real world.

And then his brother cursed, making him jump again but he managed to stay unseen. He watched Stan rub a hand over his face, a low groan of tiredness echoing through him as he glanced at his watch.

“Come on, you can do this. You learnt how to rebuild the portal, you can god damn learn how to play the piano. It can’t be that difficult!”

Ford waited with bated breath as the man tried again. It was actually alright. Inexperienced and lacking practise but he could practically feel the determination running through his brothers shoulders and down into the keys. It was quite calming, watching his brother so focused on something. Being creative and yet trying to keep quiet as to not wake anyone while he practised.

He hit the wrong note halfway through, the sound loud and jarring as his fingers stumbled.

Ford winced.

“Damn it all!” Stan slammed his fist into the side of the piano, the sound resonated oddly and Ford began to wonder how long he’d been at it, getting more and more irate. He was sure that he had heard that noise in amongst his dreams. Stan took a deep breath, fist unclenching as he levelled it back to hover above the keys. “Come on, this is for Ford. That’s why you’re doing this, remember? Can’t stop now. Just gotta keep trying.”

Everything went quiet for Ford as Stan started up again, he couldn’t hear the music over his own breathing as his mind spun a mile a minute. _He’s doing this for me? But why? I don’t-_

And then it hit him.

It hadn’t been a bad day, no in fact it had been a great one. But Mabel had been showing him music from the years he’d missed. She’d put her laptop, an ingenious creation that he had been fascinated by the first time he’d seen it, in the middle of the kitchen table while he worked. It had been nice to have the company, both her and Dipper chatting away to him as he sketched a new page in his journal and music quietly humming in the background to mask the quiet lulls in the conversation.

It had been interesting as well to look up every so often as the music changed abruptly. He hadn’t even realised it himself but certain tones, even without context from his mind, set him on edge. His shoulders would shift around his ears to hide from the noise, his pen stopping in its motions as his body got ready to flee, his heart already starting to thud at the sudden alarm bells sparking through his nerves. And then Mabel would skip to the next song without much preamble, making him jolt out of the moment. It only really happened once. As soon as he started to feel uneasy for no apparent reason the music would flick again and he’d breathe out relieved. Neither of the twins said anything, carrying on their conversations and keeping him in the midst of all their questions, keeping him grounded.

And then a song had come on that had had the opposite effect. Ford had sighed happily, his muscles relaxing at the sound as his eyes became slightly unfocused. Lost to memories of the songs their mother used to listen to. Lost to peaceful moments in the multiverse when he had found civilisation again and everything was slow and easy and he wasn’t running for his life. Moments when he wasn’t stuck in dark woods full of predators as night fell but instead stepping into the sunlight, ready to face another day in a brand new city bustling full of life with sweet music slipping through the air.

He didn’t even realise Mabel had put it on repeat until his eyes started to droop, the relief of being able to completely unwind a godsend that showed him that sleep was catching up with him.

It was hours later when Stan quietly shook him awake and asked him if he wanted dinner. He had jolted up in confusion, wondering just how he had managed to fall asleep in the middle of an unguarded room before he noticed the laptop still humming its peaceful tune to him.

A soft smile danced across his lips as Stan apologised softly, not even registering as the blanket was slipped back around his shoulders and he was pushed back on to the pillow that had somehow materialised as well without his knowledge. He closed his eyes again, feeling safe and warm as he realised his family was keeping him protected from his own mind with their actions.

And so now as Ford blinked and focused back on Stan he realised that it had been a piano piece that had lulled him into that feeling of security. Stan had connected the dots and somehow come to the conclusion that learning to play was better than just doing what Mabel had. Perhaps he liked the idea of interaction more. The thought that he could help his brother through bad moments just by sitting beside him and playing a song. Ford tried not to make a noise as a smile blossomed across his face. He leant against the doorframe, letting the not quite music ground him to reality and wipe away the drifting sparks of panic that were still trying to tell him this wasn’t real.

It was real.

If he could say anything about his brother after all this time it was just how far his determination could get him and what he’d do for him.

After all he was still waiting for Stan to give up on him after everything that had happened since he’d returned yet he always accepted every new habit with acceptance and handled every dark spell with concern and understanding.

His brother was trying his best, and it was oddly heart-warming, even if he was still puzzled by it all. He really had expected more arguments. More heated debates and fists flying.

Not… _this_.

Stan gave another vicious hiss as he lost track of the music again, hands dropping to his sides in defeat as he scrubbed at his eyes.

“This was a dumb idea…Just full of those, aren’t you?”

Ford bit his lip at the small scoff of disgusted laughter that left his brother’s lips, taking a few hesitant steps forward in response. A small part of him, buried since they were kids reared its head. The part that was there to comfort his brother after a bad grade, or halfway through revising when his brother would look at him and ask him what the point was in even trying when they both already knew the result.

“D-do you want me to teach you?”

Stan jolted, spinning around, eyes wide as he took in Ford. Ford jumped back at the sudden motion, pausing only when Stan raised his hands placatingly, face apologetic even though it was him who had been startled in the first place.

“Whoa, Jesus, Ford. You startled me.” Stan’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing up anyway?”

“Oh, you-uhm-”

Stan winced, hand going to the back of his neck. “I woke you up, didn’t I? Sorry, I was going to try and surprise you. Thought if you were having a panic attack this might be helpful or- it’s nothing, it’s just a stupid idea.”

“No, no. I-” _Thank you._ For some reason he couldn’t get the words passed his tongue. Ford shook his head, shifting back into the room. “It’s not. Not a dumb idea. I’d love to hear more.”

Stan snorted, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms, mouth falling sullenly. “If I woke you up, you’ve already heard. I’m absolutely terrible. You can say it, you know, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

“That’s why I offered to…uhh, teach you?” Ford played with his hands, looking down as he did so, mind scolding him for being so blunt. He could have said he wasn’t _that_ bad first, or that he’d be happy to _play_ with him, not _teach_ him-

“Heh? You already know how to play? I should have known.” Stan shook his head, standing up with a groan of pain at his joints. “Should have just got the piano and presented it to you as a gift instead of staying up all night for the last few trying to learn.”

“This isn’t the first?”

Stan huffed good-humouredly. “What? I can’t have sounded that bad, could I?”

“What? No! That wasn’t-” Ford growled back at him as he grinned cheekily. “I was just surprised it was the first night I woke up, that’s all.”

“Yeah well, you need your sleep so I’m glad I didn’t wake you up that much.” Stan smiled, gesturing towards the piano. “You can play whenever, you shouldn’t be able to wake anyone up upstairs if you’re careful about it.” He wandered towards the door, stopping only to put a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Night, Sixer, I hope it helps.”

“Wait.” Ford grabbed his arm before he could move on, tugging him back towards the piano without preamble, even as he squawked in protest. He pushed Stan back into the seat, before realising awkwardly how weird this was, trying to force him to stay and deflated. “Let’s play together?”

“Sixer, you’ve just told me you know how to play. I’ll just ruin it.”

“Knucklehead, I want to spend some time with you.” Ford inwardly cheered as Stan’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes hopeful as he turned back to the piano thoughtfully. “Can I teach you?”

“I’m a terrible student.”

Ford snorted, sitting next to him. “Well, I don’t think our teachers knew how to deal with your antics but I’m pretty sure I can.” He smiled proudly as Stan chuckled, the tension leaching from his shoulders. “Besides…” He bit his lip as Stan turned to him, obviously puzzled by his sudden hesitance. He decided to bite the bullet, it was only fair to let Stan know how much he helped. “You’ve already kept me from being dragged too far under by my memories…and if you were hoping this would do the same- well, I don’t think I’ll be all that up for playing if I’m…” He stared down at his hands, a tremor already shuddering through them at the mere thought of dealing with one of the many predators flashing behind his eyes.

“Fighting demons?”

Ford flinched, the image of Bill flickering behind his eyelids, a sharp cackle echoing through his ears. “Yeah, something like that.” He glanced back over at Stan, relaxing at the sad understanding expression on his face.

“Yeah it’s hard to face them alone. I’ve got your back, Sixer.”

Ford blinked, his mouth opening and closing for a few seconds as his mind blanked out. “I know you do.”

“Good. Well then, if that’s the case-” Stan clapped his hands together before wiggling his fingers above the keys with a cheeky grin. “You’ll have to teach me as much as you can.”

“Alright. We’ll start off simple.”

Ford spent the first few minutes reminding himself of the instrument and preening slightly at the praise and small noises of assent from the man beside him before going back to beginner stuff, teaching his brother how to move his hands and slowly build up the speed. It took a lot of false starts, and a lot of angry complaints but Stan was willing to keep going as long as Ford kept reminding him he was doing fine and he wasn’t embarrassing himself.

It was only when light started to filter through the window that they both glanced up and realised the time. A shaky laugh resonated between them as they realised they’d stayed up all night, whiling away the hours with lessons and small conversations about nothing important that seemed important nonetheless just for having happened between them.

It was only as Ford stood up that he realised something had been bugging him the entire time that he had forgotten to ask his brother.

“So…where did you get the piano?”

Stan looked back at him from the doorway, his grin turning smug and secretive.

“Oh, Sixer, you do _not_ want to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This was really fun ♥ The prompt was feral ford and a piano ^.^ There’ll be another soon 8D


	12. False Sense of Security

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Other commission for @lockholmes ^.^ enjoy ♥

Ford bit his lip as he paced a hole into the floor of his room.

He couldn’t put a finger on what was wrong, something just felt _off_. Like the world was off kilter and something was waiting for him just outside the door of his room, ready to strike. Ready to lunge, to tear-

He stopped pacing, eyebrows furrowing as his hands tightened into fists, clenched tight into the fabric of his sweater.

_This is ridiculous. There’s nothing there! You heard nothing! You saw nothing. Your brain is just playing tricks on you-  
But what if it’s not?_

Pain flared as he bit harder into his lip, snapping him out of the circling thoughts with a small curse. His hands loosened, his mind easing slightly as the pain dragged him sorely back to reality. Really under it all, he was just confused, shame bubbling up at the fact that his feet refused to budge when absolutely nothing had given him reason to think anything was amiss. He didn’t understand what his gut was telling him, only that he had been wise to listen to it before.

But another part of him felt inadequate at just sitting in his room all day. Sooner or later Stan would come to check up on him and then what? He’d have to tell him what was happening and watch him try to hold back the concern as he showed him everything was safe?

_Or worse he comes to find you and something attacks him because it didn’t get you- Shut up.  
Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

Ford snarled at his thoughts, gun abruptly in hand as he marched to the door and threw it open with a clatter. Creature or not, nothing was going to attack Stan just because he was too amped up to leave his room. He took a determined step into the hallway, eyes narrow and body tense as he surveyed the area.

Nothing was there.

He gave a small sigh of relief, pride blossoming through him.

He’d won against his mind, in a roundabout way maybe, but still.

Just this once, he’d won.

_So why does it still feel dangerous here?_

The smile dropped, the voice hissing a warning as his heart quickened. His gut still twisted in knots, telling him to dart back into his room and hide for the day. Ignore the world and stay safe. He shook his head, face grim as he continued to take measured steps away from the open door and the safety behind it.

He’d check the whole shack if he had to, to make the feeling go away.

He took a deep breath at the next door he found himself at, throwing it open the same as the other and taking sharp quick observations, gun still ready in his hand before his eyes found the piano on the other side of the room. He paused, stopping the turn he’d been ready to do to keep moving as his head tilted, a new idea popping up at the sight.

Maybe that would steel him, calm his fraying nerves and ease him into the day without any more hassle.

After all, that’s why Stan had bought, or otherwise acquired, it.

Ford slipped into the room, eyes locked onto the piano as if nothing else in the world mattered, his lifeline to freedom just in reach. He sat down at the stool, hands running over the keys before letting out the air in his lungs, letting his body completely relax as he started to play.

A soft smile tugged at his mouth, his body almost slumping with relief as the melody calmed and soothed, healed the nerves and appeased the wounds in his mind that threatened to overwhelm him with worries that everything was trying to kill him like it once had on the other side of the portal. It reminded him that this world was full of family and friends, people wanting to help him. It reminded him of Stan, stumbling over the keys in an attempt to learn a new skill just for his benefit. All those new memories, mingling with the nostalgia of safe havens from the storm that Bill had created to tear everything away from him lulled him ever more into tranquillity.

He played for a while, never stopping the movement of his fingers, seamlessly slipping from one song to the next until after a while he finally felt the last dregs of worry leave him boneless and happy as the last note ran out plaintive and reassuring.

A loud slow clap accompanied it.

Ford flinched, spinning around at the sound, hand already going to rest on the gun he’d placed beside him. His mind raced, a flash of yellow, a bubbling laugh of glee at his accomplishments as the clap echoed between them.

The vision vanished as he blinked, leaving Stan’s smiling face in its wake, hands still clapping as he leant against the doorway.

_How long has he been there? Why didn’t I notice?_

Stan’s countenance changed as he noticed Ford’s distress cracking through the surface. He put his hands up slowly, drawing them away from one another, his face dropping into a look of concern as guilt flashing across his eyes.

_Why didn’t I hear him? He can’t have been that quiet? I’d usually notice! I’d notice being watched!_

Ford took a deep breath, hands clenching and unclenching until with a sickening jolt he realised his hand still rested on his gun.

_Oh god, what if the image hadn’t cleared? What if I’d shot Stan thinking he was_ **him** _. Oh god, oh god, what if-_

“Hey, Sixer? Sixer, easy- it’s alright.”

Ford shook his head, propelling the gun away from him where he couldn’t accidentally grab it but it only made him feel worse. He’d left himself vulnerable. It didn’t matter if it was only Stan. He’d just thrown away part of his defence mechanism. His hands shook above the keys, his eyes zoning in on them as his heart filled with thoughts of betrayal. He’d come in here to calm himself down, not completely forget the world existed. That wasn’t helpful! That just made him realise he couldn’t have this, he _couldn’t_ play and lose himself in sweet memories because then he couldn’t protect himself, couldn’t protect Stan. He had to be vigilant, had to always be prepared, no matter how much he wished for his body and soul to stop telling him there was danger when there wasn’t because one day there might be and if he wasn’t ready for it-

Something dropped into his lap, making him bodily shake but slip back out of his spiralling thoughts.

His gun rested on his legs. He took a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he grabbed it and slipped it into its holster. His breath evened out slightly at the solid reassuring weight against his side, even if he felt sick at the thought of drawing it now.

“Feeling better?”

Ford glanced upwards at Stan standing beside him and shook his head. Stan’s face slipped into sad understanding, though he seemed proud of the honesty as he sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulder. Ford curled into the hug, happy for the contact as he sighed. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. I’m sorry for startling you.”

Ford shook his head, hiding his face in Stan’s shoulder. “It’s not that! You shouldn’t have been able to startle me. What if it had been- What if there-” Ford’s words kept catching in his throat, vision after vision making his body shudder. Anything could have attacked him, claws and teeth burned hot and sharp in his back, reopening old scars as he thought, until Stan ran a shaking hand along his back and cleaned away the mess his head was trying to recreate. The image instead changed, one filled with someone else’s blood, cries of pain not his own, thinking on the other implications of his error, his hair trigger and his paranoia. “What if I had-”

“If you had accidentally hurt me it would have been my own fault.” Stan’s words were firm, along with his grip, anchoring him against the sea.

“ _No_ -” Ford buried his face again, unable to say more as his thoughts overwhelmed him.

They sat for a while like that, Stan slowly rocking them and softly humming a song that he had heard Ford play, though now it did little to soothe him.

Upon realising this as Ford locked up in his grasp, Stan sighed, his voice hesitant and slightly worried of the reaction his words would cause.

“Hey, Sixer…you know…I’m glad. I’m glad this happened.”

Ford whined as Stan went tense beside him, not comprehending his words. _How could he want this? I can’t think straight, what does that mean?_

“Sorry, sorry, maybe that’s the wrong wording. I’m not happy about this right now. I mean you may not think it- well, you obviously don’t think it- but to me, _god_ , it makes me so happy that you can lose yourself in something nice, something that you enjoy doing instead of losing yourself to bad memories.”

“But what if something had happened?”

“Ford, you don’t have to worry about protecting us twenty four, seven. Let me shoulder some of that. God, Ford, other than when you played that board game with Dipper, that right there when you were playing? That was the most serene I’ve seen you since you’ve been home. I’m so glad that I found that old thing for you if it makes you feel that safe, if it’s something you can pour your whole heart into and just for a few moments stop worrying- stop thinking about the things that happened to you on the other side of the portal.”

Ford stayed quiet for a while, letting his words sink in before he hesitantly questioned it. “It’s…it’s not _bad_ for me to stop?”

“ _No_ , god no. I’m…I’m really proud of you actually.” Stan squeezed him tight, letting the words sink in. “I’m proud of you for winning today against the demons all on your own, just for a little bit. Every moment you can be completely and utterly relaxed without the demons causing havoc you’ve won, Ford. Or that’s…that’s what I think anyway. Not that that matters for much.”

“It matters a lot actually.” Ford mumbled, arms tight around Stan’s midriff to reciprocate the hug before he pulled away. His hands shook less as he held them out in front of him. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. And just because I’m proud of you for doing it alone doesn’t mean you have to, you know?”

“What do you mean?” Ford frowned, eyes trained on Stan’s face as he sat sheepish.

“Well…I’m always happy to be your audience or your student if you need to come and play and are worried about that kind of thing still. If you’d rather I sat in here and listened and kept an eye out for anything, just to keep you from worrying too much…I’d be happy to?”

Ford’s smile was genuine, a welcome respite that had Stan smiling back giddily in response. “That would be great, thank you.”

“So, you want me to go back to the door?”

Ford shook his head fervently, but he bit his lip in worry. The thought of both of them with their backs to the door seemed worse than just him but he wasn’t ready for Stan to leave his side just yet, the two thoughts conflicting and leaving him lost again for an answer.

Stan tilted his head at him before snapping his fingers. Ford watched with a raised eyebrow as he spun himself around to face the door, his side still glued to Fords. If Ford didn’t know better, he’d actually start worrying whether Stan could read his mind but he knew deep down that Stan just knew how to read _him_ in general.

He gave a small grateful sound that Stan smiled at before turning his attention back to the keys, hands once again returning to their position just above them. He paused again, voice quiet. “Hey, Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Hmm?”

“I hope that I can come and play with or without you beside me soon.”

“That’s music to my ears, Sixer. Music to my ears.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Other Feral Ford + Piano prompt ^o^ Poor Ford! He just can’t catch a break but Stan’s always happy to show that whatever happens everything is OK, he’ll keep him safe ♥


	13. Small Acts of Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m not sure how to count these anymore cause I’ve had 6 commissions and I wanted to number them separately to show as such XD I guess this is one shot 13? Though it was an idea I received in my asks so thanks @nokamafor sending me the cute headcanon that I couldn’t ignore writing! I’m sorry if this is not what you meant but it’s what I came up with ♥ I am happy to post the ask if you like but I realised I should ask first so please let me know if you read this ♥

Ford felt his skin crawl as he shuffled slowly into the living room, eyes nervously glancing over every small detail to check it over. He wasn’t sure what exactly had him on edge – a now forgotten nightmare, or perhaps an odder noise than usual waking him though he couldn’t remember the sound now- but whatever it was had his hackles raising and his teeth gritting as he tried to figure out how to deal with this newfound paranoia that had no probable cause.

A small whimper left him as loud footsteps approached. He knew who it was but every sense seemed heightened, the small pitter patter sounding loud and grating to his ears, everything was too bright and it was like he could _feel_ dust settling on his skin, every hair standing on end felt unique and itchy. Everything felt uncomfortable and tight, too warm and too cold all at once, like there was something wrong with his body, like he was an outsider looking in. Or like a shudder tingling through him that refused to leave, leaving a prickling sensation just under his skin that kept trying to claw its way to the surface, his muscles spasming sporadically.

_Somethings wrong, what is it, what is having this effect on me? Should I hide? Should I try and ignore it? It’s like somethings nagging in the back of my skull but what is it-_

“Grunkle Ford?”

Ford jumped, not even realising he’d spaced out and been staring at the wall for a while, still trying to figure out what exactly was going on. He blinked, glancing down at Mabel who smiled back at him warmly. “Ahh, Mabel, sorry I was- lost in thought.” He tried to smile back but it felt like it was twisting his face all wrong as he tried and failed to ignore the alarm bell still ringing in his head.

Mabel stared at him for a moment, gaze scrutinising in a way that made him shiver. _Please don’t worry, everything is fine, it’s just me, nothing more._ He tried to smile again at her, tried to force himself to appear OK even as his legs and arms twitched. As they tried to get him somewhere safe even when he wasn’t sure what counted as safe in that particular moment.

Everything was too little and too much all at once. There was too much space around him yet he felt crowded by his swirling thoughts. It was too quiet yet his ears were ringing. It was too bright but anything could be hidden in one of his small dark hiding places.

“Grunkle Ford, are you free for a little while?”

Ford jolted again as Mabel tugged at his sleeve, reflexively pulling his arm away even as shame bubbled at the action. It wasn’t Mabel’s fault, she wouldn’t hurt him. “Sorry.” He shook his head, thinking on her words. _Perhaps a distraction would be good._ “Yes, I’m free. What-what did you have in mind?”

She patted the sofa behind her, giving him a soft reassuring look. “Well, me and Dipper were looking through the guide yesterday and saw some things we thought you might like so we recorded them. I wondered if you wanted to watch some of them with me?”

“Are you sure? I’m not sure we’d watch the same things.”

“Yeah, not normally but there were some that I caught snippets of when they were recording that actually seemed kind of cool.” Mabel shrugged, still smiling brightly. “Is that a yes? Shall I put one on?”

Ford looked around the room again anxiously. Nothing could sneak up on him, there was an exit on either side of the room if needed. This seemed as safe a place as any, considering the circumstances. He gave a small nod, trying to convince himself more than anything. “I’d love to.”

Mabel squealed, the sound clattering around his head. “Yay! OK, I’ll get it all set up! You just sit down and relax, Grunkle Ford.”

Ford chuckled slightly, the sound fake to his ears. “Alright, are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“Nope, just get comfortable.”

Ford sat down, shifting nervously as he did so. His fingers tapped a rhythm against the fabric along with his heart beat as his eyes flitted back and forth from both exits. The sound of the show starting centred him slightly, dragging his attention away from his mounting fears.

Until Mabel accidentally set him spiralling further.

Without any hesitation she pulled herself up and dropped herself in his lap, getting comfortable as she shuffled into him. Ford locked up tight, pushing back into the fabric of the seat. He loved the easy affection normally, but not today, not when it felt like something was about to attack him from every corner, not when there was a prickling sensation travelling down his spine that told him he was being watched. _What do I do if my instinct is right? I can’t protect myself, I can’t protect Mabel, not like this-_

A small soft purr started, rumbling through her chest into his as they sat there and he bit his lip to stop from making a small sad whimper. It was obvious she’d noticed his distress earlier and thought this would help and it was making shame boil thick and nauseating in his stomach. He _wanted_ to reciprocate, wanted to curl up relaxed and happy and watch the show with her but he felt trapped, completely and utterly locked in place when he needed space, needed to be able to move at a seconds notice. _You can’t upset her though, you can’t push her away, what if she doesn’t come back? She’s done so much to look after you, you can deal with this-_

The purring stopped. “Grunkle Ford?”

“Y-yes?” Ford grimaced down at her as she tilted herself backwards into him.

“You aren’t purring back?”

“Ahh, uhm, that’s because-” Ford bit his lip, glancing round for an answer that refused to come to him.

“You don’t feel safe?”

Ford froze, glancing back at her as she shuffled off of his lap. He didn’t know he’d been holding his breath until it left him in a wobbly hiss. “No, Mabel, I don’t. I don’t know why, I just- I don’t-” He growled, fists tightening against his legs as the words sat on the tip of his tongue but would not budge from there.

“It’s OK. You don’t have to explain. I thought purring might help, that’s all. Thought it made you feel safer.”

“It does, normally. If the pack was together then purring was to show that everything was safe and if one didn’t purr back then that pack member knew something was wrong.”

“So you know something is wrong?”

“Yes-no…I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right today. I think I had a nightmare but I don’t remember it.” Ford moved his hand as a small one came up to pat it. Guilt swirled again at her hurt face. “Sorry, sorry, I promise I’m not trying to- I really do like it normally but I just need some space today.”

“Oh OK, yeah Dipper gets like that sometimes. He says I pop his personal bubble.” Mabel grinned brightly, shifting further away. “Sorry, I should ask before I just assume I can hug. Are you still OK to watch the show? We don’t have to.”

 “Yes! I want to!” Ford felt the words slip out without any real thought, panicking that he was pushing her away. His thoughts seemed confirmed when she continued to watch him sceptically. His heart thudded at the look, a knife digging in and twisting in a way he couldn’t stand. He pushed himself off the seat, shuffling crouched in front of her so that they were eye to eye.

She continued to stare at him worriedly as he crouched down before he gestured her forwards. He smiled when she shuffled to the edge of the seat before leaning forward, pressing their foreheads together. He grinned at the small happy giggle she let out at the motion, how she nudged forwards in response and he found that this was ok. It didn’t have to be explained though if she asked he had an answer, how the Banderbears showed affection with small nudges of affection even when tensions were high and a predator was nearby.

_I’m here, we’re together, through thick and thin._

That’s what it had meant to him then but he hoped it conveyed his thoughts now and his heart rate settled slightly. _I’m sorry. I love your impulsiveness, I just need space today, that’s all. Please don’t change. Please don’t act odd around me._

A small hand raised up hesitant and slow, watching him for a verdict. He stayed still, watching the hand hawkishly as it moved, willing himself not to pull back as her eyes followed his motions observantly. She patted him on the head, obviously assuming that if he was comfortable to nudge her then he might be ok with that unlike his hands being touched. Ford felt inclined to agree as the small motions made his shoulders slump slightly and a quiet content noise echoed from his chest.

“Is this alright?”

Ford nodded once before blinking and pulling back. He glanced back around the room, nervous tension still buzzing through him as he took in his exits again and all the ‘what ifs’ that could arise. But he also couldn’t deny that the movements had quelled some of the panic, which he hadn’t expected. Mabel sitting on him or impeding his movements wasn’t an option but any comfort his body would allow was better than nothing. He nodded again, smiling brightly as she beamed back, taking a seat on the floor in front of her.

He hummed happily as she squeaked elatedly, shifting even further forward so that her knees rested against his shoulders so that she could carry on playing with his hair. He took another swift observation of the room, mind slightly clearer at the thought that Mabel was safe and secure behind him where he could protect her from harm.

His eyes snapped back to the TV as she started to rewind it, getting back to the start so they could focus on it properly before her hands found their way back, patting and petting through Ford’s hair. His muscles unfurled from their locked up positions, his eyes and ears finally managing to focus on the documentary she had picked out, his interest outweighing the anxiety with every steady heartbeat. He let out a small purr for her efforts, just enough to know she was helping even if he knew that he wouldn’t be ready for any hugs for a long time yet. Wouldn’t feel completely safe until they had sat for a long time and the threat became empty with time.

A gleeful purr sounded back at him as she flopped to lean herself on his head, the noise reverberating through his skull.

“Hey, Grunkle Ford am I allowed to style it while I sit here?”

Ford hummed, a soft smile on his head as she tugged and twisted at the strands. “I’m not sure it’s long enough.”

“Oh, I can think of something.”

“Then by all means.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The headcanon was head nudges. Which I can totally get behind because I head nudge a lot as well. Mainly its my sign of ‘I’m really really comfortable with you and I’m glad I can be this affectionate’ so might be different. Though I do have days where even people I’m comfortable with pop my personal bubble and it sets me on edge for the rest of the day and then I really really need to be left alone… 
> 
> So I really hope this is what you meant cause I might have got it wrong and I’m really really sorry if I did! ♥♥♥


	14. Music to My Ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puns. Puns, puns and more puns. Wow, these jokes - I can’t even. Based on (http://impishnature.tumblr.com/post/149831737605/snapback-gravity-falls-can-we-all-agree-ford) but with a Feral Ford twist.

“This is the life, isn’t it?”

Stan smiled as Ford hummed beside him, stretched out on the couch with a book. The kids’ laughter was ringing across the yard as they threw water balloons at one another, screaming every so often as a cold one hit its mark.

The two of them watched lazily, a sunny afternoon with little to do but enjoy the scenery.

It had been a long time since things had been this peaceful, they were all taking the tranquil moment as it came.

Stan smiled, still watching the kids as they ran about, full of energy and life.

Summer would be ending soon. He guessed he should be a bit sad.

_But_ …he found himself glancing over to his brother, sitting serenely beside him. He wasn’t as sad as he thought he probably should be.

The kids would be leaving for home soon, but because of them he had his twin back. And as weird as it would be without them around the house, it wasn’t like he’d never see them again. They’d visit when they could and they’d already taught both him and Ford how to video call and made them promise to call _at least_ once a week to catch up.

All in all, it was actually a better ending to the summer than he ever could have hoped for.

The kids leaving had been a sad but inevitable truth that he couldn’t hide from. If he was honest, the most he had hoped for was them not completely hating him when they left for home.

Ford shifted next to him, bringing him out of those thoughts. He watched him out of the corner of his eye as he settled into a more comfortable position, glancing up once to check on the kids before returning to his book, completely at ease with the world.

Stan hummed happily, glancing away when Ford looked up at the noise, puzzled by the interruption.

He didn’t want to say anything, and he was trying to hide how happy he actually was under his usual gruffness but-

He hadn’t seen his brother this at ease since he’d come through the portal.

There’d been a lot of startled motions to begin with, lots of trepidation and watching shadows. Stan couldn’t blame him. From the little he’d gleaned from Ford’s responses to things, the other side of the portal sounded like a nightmare and he’d been stuck there for so long…His stomach churned guiltily at the thought, but he tried to push it behind him. It was little wonder that adapting to this world and realising it was actually safe after all he had been through was a little hard for him to believe.

But here they were, sitting out in the open, completely visible to the outside world.

Anything could happen. They could get attacked from any side. There wasn’t anywhere to hide unless they made a dart for the house or the tree line in the distance. The kids were running in and out of their sight every few seconds – off to grab water, or hide themselves from their opponent, sometimes yelling at the top of their lungs and other times as quiet as could be.

He himself had stood up and stretched on more than one occasion, dipping into the house quickly for a drink and worrying that Ford would look up and wonder where he had gone to or that something would happen while he was away.

But each time he only came back to Ford still sitting serenely, reading his book as if nothing could phase him.

Sure he still had his gun at his side but Stan wasn’t going to question that. If he needed it, he needed it. If taking it away would make his brother anxious again he would fight anyone who tried to take it from him.

He did want to say something though, wanted to tell his brother he was proud of him or that it was nice to see him so peaceful.

But he didn’t want to spoil the moment by pointing it out.

“Hey, Stan?”

Stan jumped, yet again lost in his thoughts, turning to his hesitant twin as if nothing had happened. “Yeah?”

“Uhm, I’ve been meaning to ask you something…”

“All ears here, Sixer.” Stan took a sip of his drink, raising an eyebrow as Ford opened and closed his mouth. “Spit it out, Poindexter, what’s holding you back?”

“I’m trying to think how to not be offensive.”

Stan snorted, eyebrows going up higher. “Well now I’m curious so just ask already.”

“How did you start up the portal?”

Stan choked on his drink, coughing slightly as his eyebrows suddenly shot down into a frown, completely lost as to what Ford meant. “I dunno, followed the instructions? What do you want from me?” He could feel his heart dropping, worried that the peaceful moment was about to be shattered into another argument. They hadn’t had one in weeks, he’d hate for it to happen again now when he thought the bridge was finally being mended.

“No, I mean I get that- never mind.” Ford shook his head, fingers drumming against the cover of the book as he looked away.

Stan continued to stare at him before it clicked, a wide grin stretching across his face. “ _Oh._ How did the criminal get so smart?”

Ford shot up at the question, hands waving in front of him as his eyes widened in panic. “No! No, no, no, that’s not what I was asking- I mean I was asking how you learnt all the things necessary, yes, but you’ve always been sma-”

“The judge threw the book at him.”

Ford paused, his arms still outstretched but now frozen before him as his face went slack in confusion.

Stan bit the inside of his mouth, trying not to laugh as Ford struggled with the words, he could practically see the cogs ticking away in his head until understanding seemed to hit.

“Was that a _joke_?” Ford seemed a bit aghast, a shocked laugh bubbling up. “Does that mean- I didn’t say the wrong thing, right?”

Stan shook his head, not answering, an idea forming in his head. “What diploma do criminals get?”

“Stan, stop- I know you’re smart, even if you didn’t finish-”

“The third degree.”

“ _Stan_.” The word came out high pitch, vaguely appalled and mostly exasperated, but Stan could see it- the laughter he was trying to hold back.

He guessed he just had to try harder.

“Who’s the strongest thief?” Stan grinned, puffing up his chest as Ford looked over at him in bemused amusement, eyebrow raising as his mouth quirked.

“You? Is that where this is going?”

“ _No_. A shoplifter.”

And that was it. That was when Ford snorted, chortles bubbling out as he shook his head, book dropping off to the side.

“Oh my god, Stan. Where did you find these jokes?”

“You’re the one laughing at them.” Stan tried not to laugh along, eyes lighting up as he caught sight of something sticking out of Ford’s pocket. “Hey Ford, why do pens get sent to jail?”

“Why?” Ford sighed out amidst his chuckles.

“To do long sentences!”

His shoulders started to shake more as Stan dove for the book that had fallen, Ford’s eyes locking on to him as he pretended to read it. “You know, I’ve been reading a book about anti-gravity, but it was impossible to put down!” He turned to Ford, eyes gleaming away as he snapped the book shut with a shrug. “Ehh, I’d tell you a chemistry joke next, but I’m sure I wouldn’t get a reaction.”

Stan stopped as Ford doubled over, unable to stop the laughter that echoed out of him. This wasn’t just chuckles, this was full on body shaking, belly laughter that boomed out of him, loud and uncaring in its mirth.

Stan found himself just watching, eyes alight and absolutely _ecstatic_.

He hadn’t seen his brother this happy in years.

If ever.

He couldn’t really figure out if his old jokes aboard the Stan’O’War had had this much of a reaction or if nostalgia had made them brighter when he was thinking back on happier times.

Either way, he couldn’t help himself struggling to think of more jokes to keep the moment going, keep this happiness alight for as long as possible.

It would be nice to be tired out at the end of the day from being too happy for once.

“Uhm…have I missed something?”

Stan spun to Mabel, who was suddenly stood behind him, attracted by the obviously loud noise. She was smiling widely, braces gleaming as she took in Ford trying to wipe away stray tears and sit up straight.

“No- nothing, just Stan-”

“Hey Mabel.” Stan looked her over, zoning in on her sweater of the day. “What star goes to jail?”

“Is this another one of your bad jokes-”

Stan launched himself forward, grabbing her up and spinning her round even as she squeaked. “A shooting star!”

Behind him there was another snort of laughter as it set Ford off again, who curled back in on himself as the amusement swept over him.

“Wait, Grunkle Ford _likes_ your jokes?!”

“What can I say? You and your brother just don’t appreciate the classics.”

Mabel looked about ready to groan at him about his sense of humour but her eyes got stuck on Ford roaring with laughter beside them. She smiled softly, looking over at Stan, understanding exactly what he was doing in that moment.

Anything that made Ford happy like that was worth it.

“Yeah, they’re such classics. You know I think I _sawdust_ on them.”

Ford gave a strangled noise as Stan let out a sudden huff of laughter, dropping Mabel on to his shoulder. “Well, look at that, our little Mabel wants to do some tree puns, well don’t blame me if they start getting _sappy_.”

Before she could respond, mouth twisted into a gleeful beam as she readied another pun, they were interrupted.

“Hey Mabel, are we done with the water fight?”

The three turned to Dipper as he wandered over, completely drenched and confused as to where his challenger had vanished to. He seemed a bit preoccupied though as he came over, irritation bubbling up more and more as Waddles constantly ran around him. The pig was obviously after something but he didn’t know what as he kept almost falling flat on his face, stumbling every few paces, as the pig ran in front of him repeatedly.

“Waddles, will you stop it! Go find Mabel! She’ll know what you want!”

Quick as a flash, Stan saw his next move.

“Whoa there, I think Waddles is _barking_ up the wrong Pine tree!”

Dipper blinked, utterly bewildered as Stan ruffled his hair and sent Waddles scuttling away from him. “What’s going on-”

Another loud peal of laughter stopped him as Ford curled up tighter in the sofa outside the shack, tears streaming down his face.

“The wrong _Pine tree.”_ There was a slight hiccup, his voice higher pitch that usual as he tried to control himself and sit up before another bout of laughter took over, arms around his stomach as he tried to breathe. “M-Maybe Waddles is just _branching_ out a bit.”

“There he is!” Stan grinned, picking up Dipper in his other arm before flopping back down on the chair next to his brother who was still crying with mirth. “I knew you still had some jokes in you, Sixer. I knew some had to come out of the _woodwork_!”

“I don’t-don’t know-” Ford gasped, taking a quick breath in before more laughter took over. “I mean, I’m pretty much _stumped_ now.”

Stan burst into his own raucous laughter, slapping his leg as the two little twins settled into the seat around them, glancing at one another quietly for a moment, a silent conversation passing between them before they nodded and relaxed.

The jokes might be terrible.

But watching the two of them laugh like nothing could ever be funnier was definitely worth the groans.

Plus it wasn’t like anyone ever had to know if they added their own bad jokes in once every so often, just to see Ford dissolve into hiccupping laughter or for Stan’s genuinely proud smile that stretched from ear to ear.

After all, it really had been a long time since things had been this peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The post really suited Feral Ford to me! But I’ll be writing a canon one now - who knows, might get it up before I go to sleep haha!


End file.
